Tales of the Bold and the Brave Part I: Old Wounds
by Jupitus Garth
Summary: This story is currently undergoing an overhaul. Hopefully the new version will be released end of June. -In 4E-181, the Empire of Tamriel is trying to recover after the brutal war with the Aldmeri Dominion. Across the northern provinces of the vast continent, a group of people will be brought together by fate. Their lives will be forever altered and a great adventure will begin.
1. Prologue

Achilles awoke suddenly with sweat on his brow. While he had always had the dreams, they had never been so vivid before, so _real_. His elderly Cyrodilic body ached as he climbed out of bed and peered out of the small window. The silhouette of his great construct loomed in its dry dock, one of the biggest and best ships he had ever designed. She would be a masterpiece in form, but not overly decorated such as with the Emperor's ship the Katariah, which he had also designed many years ago.

His attention was drawn away from the window by the sound of light tapping at his room door. After uttering for whomever it was to enter. The door opened revealing Malthar, a young Breton man, who Achilles trusted much of this build upon.

"Is everything all right?" Malthar asked him.

"I had that dream again." the aged man told him. "This time though, it was far more real than ever before. As if what happened in the dream is happening right now."

"What did you see?" the young Breton asked.

"Faces." Achilles replied. "And feelings behind those faces."

"Did you actually see their faces this time?"

"Yes and no." the elderly man said. " I saw he who is consumed with rage, she who seeks a future. I also saw other faces. A woman who is anchored to the past, and a man who is very much the same." He rubbed his face with his wrinkled, tired hands. "The other faces are still not in focus, but I feel they will become clear in time."

As always, Malthar looked at him with clear scepticism in his eyes. "Are you certain that this is all some prophecy?" he asked. "It's just that it seems very odd to me."

"I am certain."

"You might be simply having memories of the past. Dreaming about things that you saw, or heard about."

The old man shook his head with a smile. "No, it is something that has yet to happen. I am certain of it."

Malthar simply shrugged his shoulders. "If that is what you believe, I won't try to dissuade you."

"You think I'm just a kooked old man, don't you boy?" Achilles said wistfully.

"No, I think that you're a master ship designer, who partly has his over active imagination to thank for his success."

"I'll tell you this." Achilles said softly. "The day I die, will be the day you shall see that everything about my dreams were true."

"Maybe so, but perhaps you should get back to bed. It's late."

Achilles nodded. "Okay, boy. And thank you for stopping by."

"You're welcome."

Malthar waited until Achilles was back in bed before he closed the door behind him, leaving the old man to get his rest.

The man fell back into a deep sleep. Images of a chase began to swell in his mind, he began to dream once again.


	2. A Thunderous Pursuit

She ran, she ran faster than she ever had before in her entire life. Her legs were a blur and her chest heaved with exhaustion, yet she could not slow down, nor could she give in too her aching, screaming legs that begged her to stop. If she did, then she would surely die and she did not want to die. Not today, especially not like this.

The last thing the young Orsimer remembered, before having to flee for her very life, was finding a very large dead tusked creature that was covered in a thick, matted brown fur. She had come across it while wondering the large open tundra of what she had understood to be Whiterun hold. After coming across the beast, she had studied to see if she could find the cause of death. Finding nothing, she had decided to continue on her way, but not before she heard a strange deep vocal sound that came from a nearby ridge. It sounded almost like a shout, but deep and distorted. Then the ground had begun to shake, like a thousand warhammers striking at the dirt in rhythm. As she had looked around, she had seen someone running towards her, the quakes in unison to it's footsteps. He looked strange, like no man she had ever seen before and he moved in slow motion, dwarfing the small trees as he passed them. As he got closer, it became clear that he was tall, very tall. At least twelve feet by her estimation. As soon as he was in range, he had tried to smash her with the small tree that he held in his right hand, gripping it as if it were a club. It had clearly been torn out of the ground and had two rocks tied to one end, making it a most deadly weapon. As the giant had tried to crush her, smash her bones into the dirt, she had tried to assure him that she did not mean it any harm. All while trying to evade it's monstrous strikes. With no chance of reasoning with him, either because he could not or would not understand, she turned and she ran, her light hide armour giving her enough flexibility not to slow her down as she bolted away from the giant.

All she could do was hope she reached the large city she saw ahead. The city she assumed was Whiterun, the capital of the hold, lay ahead, sitting proudly on the hill. The city was majestic yet lonely, all at the same time.

As the light dwindled in the setting sun, so did her stamina. She could not stop, she could not give in to her fatigue or she would be giving in to death. She was so close, so close she couldn't give in. She had to endure the pain of her exhausted, fatigued body for only a few minutes more.

It had only been a month since she had fled the relative safety of the Orsimer stronghold, that lay in the mountains of High Rock on the border to Skyrim. The stronghold was where she had been born and raised. With the exception of her mother, none there had understood her, or even tried to. Instead she was told what personality type she should be, what skills she should have, and what life she should live. All they understood was their ancient traditions and pleasing the Daedra Malacath.

Since she had been a little girl, she had felt this magical power grow within her. Unfortunately her power did not conform to how Burag, the strongholds chief, thought an Orsimer should live. In the view of their particular chief, magic was weak and was only used by those not strong enough to fight for themselves. He thought that using only their own hands or weapons was the true path to pleasing Malacath, not magic. He didn't even allow anyone to become a herbalist. Something she had discovered most other strongholds did have. In this way, he was very close to what she had heard the Nords were like in regards to their distrust and disdain for magic. Except he was far worse.

The only thing that kept her going was her mother and how she had learned of the great mages college that lay in the lands of Skyrim. The young Orsimer wanted to find it, to be somewhere she would feel like she truly belonged.

The only thing she could do now, after fleeing the compound was to find the College of Winterhold. Only her destination felt like an eternity away as she found herself running for her very existence.

While she had already faced many dangers along her long journey to this land and in it, this giant was different. It was not some cave bear, wolf or troll. It seemed to have intelligence, but unfortunately not enough it seemed to be able to reason with it. It was determined to kill her, despite the fact that she did not wish any harm upon him.

As she ran, her lungs began to feel tight from a combination of exhaustion and the coldness of the air that rushed into them with every breath. The muscles in her legs no longer ached, they had now become completely numb. She feared that she would trip on the uneven terrain at any moment. The ground rumbled as the giant chased her, his feet pounding hard upon the cold dry mud. She did not dare look back, as the reality of his close proximity to her may cause her to give in, loose all hope she had of surviving. If she wanted to live, she had to keep going, to keep her focus on the ever looming city ahead.

The ground suddenly shook violently, far more violently than she knew it could, knocking her to the ground. She was so close to the city now, yet she was not close enough. She rolled onto her back and looked up at the looming giant above her. It stared down at her, and for a moment, she thought that it would spare her, that it knew she was not a threat. Their eyes locked and time seemed to slow to a crawl. It brought up the club high above its head, almost in slow motion.

The death blow was only moments away, yet it felt like it would last forever. Whatever she had thought about the giant's intelligence before, she now realized that it felt no remorse for the life it was about to take, nor guilt for what it was about to do to another. She had wanted to follow her soul, to find who she really was, but all she had managed to find was her own demise. "No!" she yelled in defiance as the giant brought the club down upon her.

With her final moments she held her hands out in front of her and cast the most powerful armour spell she could.

* * *

Valerie stared in amazement and horror. She had never before seen a giant so close to the city, and it terrified her, but it also thrilled her. It had been such a long time since she had seen actual combat, that she felt the urge to try and fight the creature off, not matter how foolish such an act was. It was a pity that she did not have her sword on her or she might have actually tried it simply to liven up her uneventful existence.

Before she had heard the rumbles of the giants footsteps, she had been on her way home from a hard day's work at the stables, clearing out the bad hay and straw that was full of horse muck, taking the horses out for short rides to keep their legs free and able, as well as brushing their fur to keep them from looking matted and scruffy.

She swiped her long blonde fringe from her dark blue eyes, as she glanced around at the guards. They wore their unmistakable armour that consisted of A spike topped full face helmet, with rain drop shaped eye pieces, sandy yellow material draped over chain-mail armour, steel boots and a round wooden iron rimmed shield, baring the horse head logo of Whiterun. Some of the guards ran towards the stables from their posts in the tower nearby. Some with weapons drawn, looking ready to defend the city. While others were frozen in place, clearly not sure whether or not they should actually try to ward the giant off or not. It wasn't until the giant smashed its club hard into the ground that Valerie noticed that the giant was chasing someone, the sheer force of the club striking the ground was not only enough to knock the person over, but to smash a cloud of dirt high into the air, causing the horses to screech in their paddocks and one of the guards to yell out in surprise. She glanced back over at them, who were now stood, bows ready and swords drawn, yet they did not approach.

"You have to do something!" Valerie called to them as the giant stepped over its fallen prey. "It's going to kill that person!"

"Take on a giant?" one of them asked in disbelief.

"Better them than us!" another yelled back. "We're here to protect the city, not bring the wrath of a giant on it, because someone was stupid enough to wander into a giant's camp. Go get the Companions if you want that thing brought down!"

"Yeah, the sooner it kills the idiot and leaves the better."

She couldn't believe what she was seeing or hearing. They would allow someone to be killed so close to the gates, and do absolutely nothing to prevent it. It made her feel not only physically sick, but totally helpless. She guessed all of the brave Nords had died in the war, or were suffering too badly from war wounds to become city guards. That was the only reason she could think of to explain the cowardice she saw before her.

As she looked back towards the doomed individual, she saw the giant hold its club up high above its head, ready to strike forth with a terrible force that would surely pulverize his victim to dust. She closed her eyes tightly, covering her face with her hands, unable to witness what would surely happen next. The ground trembled violently with what was most assuredly the death blow. All went quiet, as if the entire world had just mourned the passing of the poor soul that had just been crushed.

Valerie didn't know what had happened to get the giant to chase the unfortunate sod and strike them down with such ferocity, but the small figure did not appear armed and certainly didn't look like a threat to anyone.

She finally opened her eyes to see the giant as it turned around and began to walk away, clearly pleased with the death it had just dealt. All the guard relaxed and put away their weapons. "That was close." one said clearly relieved.

"I thought I was going to have to fight it." another said.

"Cowards." Valerie said quietly to herself as she watched them in disgust. They returned to their posts, as if nothing had happened, the only thing that would come of this was a new story to tell when they were drunk at the Bannered Mare, telling lies of their bravery of how they fought off a giant. She looked over at the crater left by the death blow. She felt strange, Her curiosity about what had become of the giants' prey got the better of her. She rubbed the back of her neck nervously as she built up courage to go see what was left of the one unlucky enough to get pulverized by the giant. She walked, half reluctantly, over to the small impression in the dirt the giant had left. Where she had expected to see nothing but a mass of pulverized pulp, she saw a whole young orc woman, with the unmistakable green skin, under bite and large upward facing lower canine teeth. To her surprise, she seemed to still be intact. She stepped down into the small crater and licked the back of her hand, before placing it in front of the orc's nose and mouth. She was even more surprised, even shocked to find the orc still took breath. She was actually alive. After all of that, she was still breathing!

She quickly checked to see if her bones were intact. They appeared to be, but moving her could cause further injury. She couldn't just leave her there in the hole. The young orc was undoubtedly seriously injured and could die without help. She decided that the young woman needed help as soon as possible, and she would just have to hope she was intact enough to be able to be moved. Valerie reached under the young woman and lifted her up. She turned around and began to carry her towards the city. One of the guards stepped in front of her, blocking her advance.

He held up his hands. "Woah, woah, you can't bring some dead orc into the city."

Valerie pleaded with him. "She's still alive, we have to get her to the priests at the Temple of Kynareth."

"Surely such a thing is not possible!?" he asked in disbelief.

"She's still breathing!" Valerie told him. If she doesn't get help she could die." Unable to see the guards expression through his full faced helmet, she had no clue as to what he was thinking in the moments silence that followed. She decided to help him along with his decision. "The gods smile on those who help others." she said. "Be a good, decent person. You failed to help her before, make it right."

"Fine." he said finally in defeat. "Just make sure you go straight there."

"I intend to." she replied. "And thank you, the gods smile on you today." She moved passed him, on her way into the city.

With luck the young orc would be fine, though how she had not been smashed to bits, let alone survived she had no idea. The nine had been watching her this day, for what purpose she did not know.

But the answer to that question, if it could be answered, would have to be answered later. Right now, she just hoped she continued to live.

* * *

Valerie stepped through the doors of the temple of Kynareth and was met by a surprised Terrance Pure-Spring, the elderly Nord priest, who was resting on a bench that lay on the far side of the large room. He rose up and moved over to her, flattening down his brown robe, which had bunched up while sitting.

"Place her on one of the altars." he said, quickly gaining his composure.

"Thank you." Valerie said as she moved over and placed her on the bed like healing altar.

"What happened to her?" Terrance asked as he looked down at his patient, stroking his white beard as he did so.

"Giant attack." Valerie said as she moved away, resting her right hand over her stomach as it began to ache from the extended exertion.

The priest stepped over to the orc and took a close look at her. "She doesn't look too badly injured, but there could be injuries on the inside we cannot see. I will see to her."

Valerie thought back to what had happened just minutes earlier. "The guards." she said as she began to pace back and forth. "They didn't do anything!"

The priest held his hands over his patient before glancing over at her. "What did they not do?"

"They watched as the giant nearly pulverized her and did not move a single muscle to even try and frighten it off."

Terrance began to heal his patient. "She does not seem to have suffered any wounds that fit with giant attack."

Valerie stopped pacing and stared at him. "What do you mean?" she asked, already knowing what he meant. The lack of being crushed was a big mystery to her. "I saw it smash her with his club!" The incident was still fresh in her mind. The plume of dirt that exploded like a water splash when the giant had struck.

"Giant attacks usually involve crushed limbs and in most cases death, she has suffered cuts and blows, but nothing that suggests she was clubbed by a giant."

She stepped up to the bed and looked down at the unconscious orc. "Must have only clipped her, she was already down when it took the final swing. The clouds of dirt as it struck the ground must have made it look worse than it was."

"Perhaps." Terrance said. "Though it is late, I suggest you get some sleep and return in the morning, I will see to her."

"I'm not tired." Valerie responded as she rubbed her eyes.

"Your blood has been awakened by the events that have occurred. Your limbs tremble and your heart beats quickly. It will wear off, and when it does, you'll feel the exhaustion."

She nodded. "All right."

"Before you go, may I ask how your old wound is?"

Valerie without thinking put her hand over her stomach once again. "It's fine." she said. "You keep on asking me that every time I see you."

He bowed his head forward. "Impalement with a sword can have lasting effects."

"It knocked me out of the Legion." she said with a mixture of both sadness and anger. "I return home only to hear my father was killed in retaking the Imperial City. Then on the day the war ends my husband vanishes without a trace or any word on what happened."

"You feel abandoned." He observed.

"No one here cares about me." she said defensively. "I live alone here in my fathers old house because I have no where else to go. I am alone here!"

"You are alone because you do not let anyone get close." he told her. "You do your job at the stables and that is all you do. You do not even try and make friends."

"Look, I'm starting to feel tired, can we talk about this later."

"You should go get an early nights sleep." he suggested. "It will do you good."

"I will." she said as she turned and left the temple. She felt angry at the priest for bringing up old memories. She missed her husband, she missed her father, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Nothing at all.


	3. Alone Amongst the Crowd

The sun shone through one of the small arch shaped windows straight into Valerie's eyes, stirring her from her slumber. It had only been two hours since she had finally felt the call of sleep and now she had been awakened by the dawn, much to her chagrin.

She clambered out of bed having spent the night fully clothed, as this time of year was bitter cold. The nights often had severe frosts, some of it even inside the house. No matter how well the fire was blazing, this time of year was often cold, especially when one was lacking funds to make a sufficient fire. She made her way downstairs into the kitchen, then grabbed some bread for her breakfast and began to tear at it angrily with her teeth. As she ate it her foul mood began to ease, yet her eyes were heavy and her head felt light from the lack of a restful night.

The house had become even colder as the fire had burned out during the night. Valerie barely had enough gold to pay the rent, let alone feed herself and pay for firewood. Life was tough and it became tougher everyday. Nobody was buying horses any more and no one seemed to own horses, meaning that the stable she worked at was currently undergoing a hardship. No gold for the stables meant her wage was severely cut. Low wage meant that if things didn't pick up then within a few months time she would be without a home. She quickly put the thoughts out of her mind lest her mood begin to turn sour once again. It was tough, but she had to keep her hopes high, there was nothing much else she could do.

After finishing her bread, she rose up and made her way to the front door. She unlocked it before exiting her house, re-locking it behind her. She stood outside and took a deep breath, the warmth of the sun managing to break through the cold wintry day. Her house lay in the plains district, the lowest and poorest district in the city. Even though, it was still nice enough, unlike the poor districts of other cities such as Windhelm and Markarth, which were by all accounts abhorrent and ridden with filth.

The first thing Valerie would do today was head up to the Temple of Kynareth before she headed to work. She wanted to see how the young orc she had brought was doing. She hoped she was better, but also feared how it was that she suffered so little injury from the attack? Perhaps the Gods had saved her, or perhaps the giant had simply missed. Whatever had happened, speculation would do nothing to reveal what truth was, only asking the orc would do that. Valerie walked down the street and up a long set of steps towards the city temple.

Terrance Pure-Spring greeted Valerie as she stepped through the main doors into the large square shaped main room. Valerie brushed her blonde fringe from out of her eyes as she looked over at the priest with half a smile.

"How is she?" Valerie asked him.

The elderly priest smiled. "She is doing quite well." he informed her. "A very nice girl."

"That's good." Valerie said smiling back. "Do you know how she survived it?" She thought back to the massive man-sized club that had come crashing down upon her with enough force to shatter a house, let alone a person. Her bewilderment of how she had managed to survive concerned her deeply.

"A spell." Terrance said, confirming her deepest fears.

"She's a magic user?" Valerie asked, knowing that it was the only true logical answer, as to how she had survived such a horrendous attack. The truth was that she didn't trust those who used magic, healers excluded of course, for obvious reasons. They had lead to all that was wrong with both the Empire and Skyrim today. Magic is what those of the Dominion used and they were vile creatures that praised themselves to be superior than everyone else.

"Don't be too harsh on her for being a magic user." the priest told her. "She's just a young woman."

"Maybe." she responded as she looked over at her. It was hard to asses her age, but at a guess she was in her mid to late teens. Young woman was an apt description for her, though she certainly wasn't a Nord, she wasn't even human. She had come across many orcs in her time, unfortunately most of them had been bandits looking for their next victim to slay and rob. She had never been to one of the many strongholds that dotted the Skyrim landscape, nor had she ever wanted too. She had no idea what to expect from the girl, or even if she should expect anything at all.

"Perhaps you should go talk to her." Terrance said, breaking her from her thoughts.

Valerie shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "I must really get to the stables."

"You'd be getting there early." he pointed out truthfully.

She let out a short sigh, accepting the inevitability of having to meet her. It was the reason she had come here in the first place after all, so she might as well do it. It couldn't hurt and might even set her mind at rest. "Your right." she said finally.

"Besides she wants to meet the person who brought her here." he said placing his fragile hand on her shoulder.

"An orc wants to meet me?" She half joked, not really understanding how she truly felt about it. "Should I be worried?"

Terrance smiled. "She isn't what you expect, trust me on that."

"Really?" she asked him. "And what is it I expect?" Her tone coming across far harsher than she had intended.

"You came here to see her did you not?"

"I guess I did." Valerie left the priest by the door and made her way, half reluctantly, to the bench where the young orc was sat. She looked up at Valerie as she approached, her long brown hair flowed messily over her shoulders and her green eyes shone brightly, her pupils shaped strangely like a four point stars. She smiled at her, something that looked quite odd on her unusual face.

"Hello." the orc girl said in a deep, yet soft voice.

"Um, hello." Valerie responded. She glanced around at the priest looking for some comfort, and reassurance. He simply smiled at her. She turned her attention back to the orc.

"Are you the one that brought me here?" the young orc asked.

Valerie cleared her throat. "Um, yes." she stammered. "Yes, I am." she repeated with more confidence.

"Pleased to meet you." She said her smile growing wider. "I'm Magoza, Magoza gra-Bagol."

Valerie felt herself relax at the unexpected politeness. "I'm Valerie Iron-Axe." She stepped over to the bench and sat down on it. "Though I prefer a steel sword." she joked in reference to her name. "I'm glad your okay."

"So am I."

Valerie regarded her for a moment. She was hardly what she had come to expect from an orc, far too polite and far too welcoming. "You're not what I expected." she told her.

"Expecting a brooding, angry Orsimer who wants nothing more in life than to smash things with a warhammer?"

"Yes and no. Perhaps someone not quite so polite, or well spoken."

"Well believe me when I say that it wasn't how I was brought up." Magoza said bitterly. "I didn't fit in there, that's why I'm out here." Her eyes went dark, as if remembering something most terrible.

Valerie glanced over a Terrance, then back at Magoza. "I tell you what, you tell me all about it tonight when I get back from working at the stables."

"That sounds nice." she responded, a little sadness creeping into her voice.

Valerie suddenly felt sorry for her. She had no one, no one at all. She had left everything behind her and she didn't seem to have anywhere to go. She could easily see the uncanny resemblance between the two of them, as she too had no one. She knew exactly how the young orc felt and she wouldn't allow her to continue on alone. "I _am_ coming back to see you tonight." She told her reassuringly, trying to encourage her and not let her think that she was trying to run away.

"You have work, I understand."

"I'll see you tonight." she reassured her once again as she stood up. "I promise." She made her way back to Terrance.

As she approached him his face was one of concern, something was clearly on his mind. "She cannot stay here." he spoke in a hushed voice, as not to let Magoza overhear.

Keeping her voice low also, Valerie responded in an unfriendly tone, not hiding her disdain for what he had just said. "You're throwing her out!?"

"As much as it pains me, yes." Terrance said.

"If it pains you, then don't."

"She required very little care and there is nothing more that can be done for her, our work is now done." he explained.

"Can't you make an exception?" she asked as she glanced around at Magoza. "At least for now?"

"This is not a bunkhouse." he told her matter-of-factly. he stepped in closer to Valerie before he continued. "If we allow her to stay, then we'll have every beggar in the hold knocking on our door, and we'd have no space for healing people."

Valerie looked over at Magoza to see if she had heard them, but she was talking to one of the temple's healers. She turned her attention back to the priest. "We'll talk again tonight, just please don't throw her out till I return from my days work at the stables."

Terrence nodded slowly. "Okay, but she does not sleep here tonight."

"I know, you've made that fact perfectly clear."

Terrance's face turned to one of sorrow. "I don't mean to seem unfeeling, but this really is a temple of healing. We cannot accommodate her."

"I know." she responded with a heavy sigh, knowing that he was right. "I'll see you later then." Valerie turned and left, stepping out into the frosty morning, sunlit streets.

As she made her way down the cobbled streets, passing under the stone arch and down the long stone steps towards the town exit, she knew that there was only one thing that could be done. She would ask Magoza to stay with her, at least for a little while, until she was feeling up to continuing on with her journey. Wherever her destination might be.

In truth Valerie was lonely, and seeing the lonely young orc woman hurt her soul. She couldn't help but feel a connection with her. She might be a stranger, but they both needed a friend and Valerie wanted to help her.

As she stepped through the large city gates, she knew that her work would be hard today, her troubled sleep had left her feeling exhausted and it would only get worse. She had to ignore it though concentrate on getting through the day. She couldn't afford any time off.

* * *

Valerie once again entered the Temple of Kynareth. It had been another unprofitable long hard day and like always, her stomach gave her pain, but she ignored it. She was met by Terrance who nodded in greeting before glancing over at Magoza who was currently sitting with Danica, one of the temple healers and Terrance's daughter. "I have yet to tell her of the situation regarding her stay." he whispered.

"Don't worry about it." Valerie told him, rubbing her tired, sore eyes. "I'm going to invite her to stay with me." she said with half a smile. "At least until she's feeling up to travelling again."

Terrance smiled. "I must say, I expected you to say that. It is a good thing to do."

"Do you know where she was headed before all of this happened?" she asked him inquiringly. "Before the attack?"

"The College of Winterhold, believe it or not."

It pained her to hear that, even though it made perfect sense. Magic was bad, she had been told that over and over again by both her mother and father as she grew up, and she'd had that opinion hammered into her brain since the moment she could understand words. It was hard to overcome, but she couldn't just let her be thrown out onto the street.

Valerie turned her attention back to the priest. "Winterhold." she repeated. "Do you know what spell saved her?"

Terrance shook his head. "She said she doesn't know, only that it was an armour spell of some kind. From what I gathered from her description, it was sort of a barrier that surrounded her."

Valerie looked across at Magoza who was sat looking over at them. "I thought you had to know a spell before you could cast it?"

"That is how I understand it, but perhaps she has an innate understanding of magicka."

Valerie felt a little unnerved by the prospect. Did she want someone such as that living with her? Could she be a danger to the city? She could hardly have her thrown out of the city so soon after such an awful attack. "I better go talk to her."

"That would be wise."

"Yes." Valerie said. She made her way over to where Magoza sat.

As she approached Magoza smiled. "Hello."

"Hello." the Nord responded

Danica turned to her and nodded before leaving them so that they could speak.

Valerie sat next to her, where Danica was sat moments before. "How has your day been?"

"It has been rather boring for the most part, but talking with the priest and healers was fun."

"Well the priest says that you are fully healed, and that their services and accommodations are no longer needed."

Her smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. "They're throwing me out?" she asked clearly taken aback by it. Her mood quickly softened and she relaxed. "Well I suppose I can't complain, they did help me after all."

"If you're not feeling up to continuing on with your journey, you can stay with me till you are." Valerie proposed.

The smile returned to Magoza's face. "That is very kind of you."

Valerie felt a smile spread across her own face. It felt good to help her. "Come on, let's go." She stood up and offered her hand to help her new friend up. Magoza gladly took it and she rose up from her seat. They both headed towards the priest.

Magoza smiled at him. "Thank you for your care." she said to him earnestly. He took a short bow before they both left.

* * *

The first thing that Magoza noticed as she stepped into Valerie's home was how sparse it was. Shelves that looked like they should hold things were empty and hooks that appeared that they were for hanging paintings or decorative items were bare.

"Gold has become scarce." Valerie told her noticing where her eyes fell. "Ever since the war, things have been tight."

"With the elves?" Magoza asked, shortly before realizing how stupid her question was. Who else had the Empire fought in recent times.

Valerie did not seem to notice. "Yes." she said simply. "I was injured and had to return home. My husband continued to fight and he sent coin. Since the end of the war, that coin has stopped and he disappeared."

Magoza remained silent. It was obvious to her that she believed her husband was dead and she did not want to upset her. Valerie walked over to the unlit fireplace, seemingly lost in thought before she turned her attention back to her new friend.

"Working the stables puts food on my table and helps towards the taxes, but it's all just so expensive and the stables haven't been doing well recently."

Magoza suddenly felt guilt wash over her. Valerie was struggling to keep her home and feed herself, yet she had added another mouth to the pot. "It must be difficult to remain optimistic?" she asked solemnly.

"It is all that I can do. To let it crush my soul would be foolish." Valerie tried to smile as she picked up a cooking pot and rested it on some apparatus that lay near the fireplace. "I pray to the shrine of Talos every chance I get. It gives me hope."

"You said the war was over. Did the Empire win?" Magoza asked. "Back at the stronghold, I didn't pay attention to current events."

Valerie let out a snort. "Some call it a mutual loss between both forces, and some say the Empire surrendered to the Dominion."

"What do you call it?"

"The beginning of the worst days of the Empire's existence."

Magoza was confused by her last statement. "What do you mean?"

"Emperor Titus Mede II signed some gods-forsaken treaty."

Magoza stared at Valerie for a moment not knowing the importance of the treaty. "What's that?"

"A piece of paper that gives them free reign to do as they please." Valerie stared off for a moment before continuing on. "Worst of all the crimes. They have outlawed the worship of Talos!"

Magoza was quiet for a moment. "I thought you just said you were still worshipping at the shrine of Talos?"

"Yes." Valerie responded simply. "And I shall continue to do so until those elves arrest me."

"Who are the Thalmor?"

Valerie regarded her for a moment. "Don't know much about what's been going on do you?"

"No, not really. What happened in the outside world was never talked about in the stronghold."

"That much is pretty obvious." Valerie joked, a small smile spread on her lips. "The Thalmor are high elves and the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion."

"Why did they go to war with the Empire?"

"I don't know, from what I've heard they simply want to prove that they are better than us. That the elves are better than humans, or some such nonsense."

"And they are from the Summerset Isle?" Magoza asked.

Valerie nodded. "Yes. Damn elves, ripping up the Empire!"

"What about the elves that aren't part of the Dominion, and are loyal to the Empire? Do you think they are having a hard time?"

"The high elves I guess, have it the worst. They are the face of the Thalmor after all."

"What do you think?"

"I'm not sure, people around here don't like them too much."

Magoza knew that she was avoiding the question. Could the reason that she was avoiding it be because Valerie herself didn't like the answer? "And what do you think?"

Valerie rubbed her eyes. "I don't know."

Magoza wouldn't take that as an answer. If she had one failing, she knew it was that she liked people to tell her the truth no matter if she had to upset them in the process of uncovering it. "I would really like to know how you feel about them."

Valerie sat down on a chair in front of the currently unlit fire place. She leaned to the side and picked up some firewood and threw it in.

"If I light that," Magoza began, "Will you tell me truthfully what you think?"

Valerie shook her head. "I know that your a magic user and I must tell you, that I don't like magic."

Magoza understood immediately. She was in the land of the Nords, and they didn't generally like magic. To expect her new friend to be any different was foolish. "Perhaps," she stammered, "perhaps I can change your mind."

Valerie moved out of the way of the fireplace. "All right then." she said. "Use your magic to light the fire."

Magoza stepped over to the fire place and with a quick flame spell, the fire lit up nicely. She turned to her new Nord friend. "Done."

"I guess you want to know what I think?"

"Please."

"Well, I don't like the high elves. When I see one I wonder, wrongly I admit, whether or not they are an agent of the Thalmor." She shook her head. "If I see a Khajiit, I also think they're agents for the Thalmor."

"Does it get in the way of your daily life?"

"There was a high elf here a few months ago, maybe a year. I didn't go to the shrine of Talos at all while he was in the city. I don't think anyone did. Except the Grey-Manes maybe."

Magoza felt sorry for her. The Thalmor had taken so much from them, yet they tried to remain true to themselves. It was no wonder that they had a deep resentment for magic, or maybe there was wonder? "Why do Nords hate magic so much?" she asked.

"Well I don't think we ever really liked magic that much, generally speaking. I guess we had the Oblivion thing happen, and that was caused by those that used magic. And then the Thalmor."

"They all use armour, they all use swords." Magoza pointed out. "So why not blame armour and swords for what's wrong with the world. Or is it simply that they use magic more than you, so it must be bad?"

Valerie shrugged. "I don't know." she admitted. "It's the way I was brought up."

Magoza was satisfied. She had been able to have a proper discussion with someone as to why they believed what they believed, instead of just being told 'because we say that is the way to live!' as she had always gotten at the stronghold.

Valerie stood up and picked up a metal frame that held a pot in it. She placed it in front of the fire and turned to Magoza. "How about you help me cook up a really nice meal?" she asked.

Magoza smiled. "Tell me what to do and I'll help in anyway I can."

"See that cupboard over there." Valerie pointed. "That's where I keep some ingredients."

Magoza walked over to the cupboard, and her second night in Whiterun, her first in the abode of Valerie begun.


	4. Regrets of a Nord

It had haunted him for years now, especially over the passed year since the fighting had stopped. He knew it has now far too late to do anything about it, yet he couldn't help but feel that if he simply returned home everything would be as it was. It was childish to think things could ever be as they had been, he had made his choice on that day when the Empire had all but surrendered to the Aldmeri Dominion. With the signing of the sickening White Gold Concordat, he had decided to continue the fight in the Imperial Province of Hammerfell. He refused to let them win, he refused to believe that they had let them win.

Then the Empire turned their back on them. Declared Hammerfell an independent state, abandoned them like an old rusty blade that was no longer of any use. The so called Emperor Titus Mede II was scared of the Thalmor, terrified. He was now all but their tool. He did their bidding by outlawing Talos worship, he disbanded the blades and allowed everything that the Septim line of Emperors had accomplished to fall into decay. Talos, or Tiber Septim as he was also called, had forged the Empire. Now it was nothing but dust.

Rontag stood at the gates of the war ruined city of Gilane. He stared out at the cold, dark, moons lit Alik′r desert. His matted light brown hair and beard blowing softly in the breeze, his steel armour blasted dull by years of being amongst the insufferable sand. He felt alone, despite the fact that he had friends all around him. He had abandoned his wife to continue fighting this war and now he knew it was too late for him to return to her. After six years she would have moved on, while he was stuck in the past. "Valerie." he said aloud. "You told me to keep fighting when you couldn't any longer and I did."

He heard someone step up beside him. He looked over to see his friend Doran beside him.

Doran was a Redguard with dark brown hair, smooth skin that was as black as the night and a love of light armour. That armor consisted of a black hood, dark red clothing covered with a light steel cuirass and a black cape. The perfect outfit for keeping cool in such a hot and dry place.

"You have been standing here for hours." Doran said also looking out to the desert. "Is anything the matter?" he asked as he looked to his friend.

Rontag turned his gaze back out to the desert. "This place has always felt wrong to me."

"You dislike the desert." Doran spoke knowingly. "You're a Nord through and through, so I understand that. You prefer a desert of white, not a desert of red."

"I have been here for six years, we only finally drove the Aldmeri out a year ago." Rontag turned to his friend. "When the Empire signed the treaty with them, my fight should have been over, but I continued to fight, I came here to this land to fight them."

"Yes, you fought for us and you continue to help in rebuilding this city."

Rontag looked back into the city. "Gilane is not my home, nor is it likely to ever be."

"Then perhaps it is time you returned to the place you do regard as home."

Rontag shook his head dismissing the notion. He could not simply return, not after so long and with no word. He also could not bear the thought of leaving Doran alone with no one. His whole family had been slaughtered by the Dominion when they had sought to take control of the city. While Doran knew almost everyone here, there were few left and those that did remain all had at least some family left. If he stayed, at least they could both be without family together. If he did return to Skyrim, his wife would most likely not want anything to do with him. She didn't even know whether or not he was even still alive. He had not written letters as the war had made it most impossible and now it was over he still didn't write because it was far too late.

Doran leaned against the open gate post, arms folded as he realized the problem. "Do not tell me that it's me that's keeping you from returning home?"

"Partly. You are my friend, we share a battle bond."

"You need to return home, Rontag. Even if it is to find that your beloved has moved on with her life. You need to know, and you need Skyrim."

"Maybe."

Doran moved over to Rontag, placing himself between his friend and the desert. He rested his hand upon his shoulder. "Come on, we should go inside and talk about this over a drink."

Rontag slowly nodded in agreement. Doran knew the way through a Nords torment was a good drink. "That is another thing I miss." He said as he turned and began to walk with his friend back into the city. "A proper Nord ale."

He was trying to lighten the mood, but it came out more derisive and sour than he had anticipated.

"I don't see what's wrong with our ale." Doran said defensively.

"That's because you haven't had any Nord ale before." He said, his delivered words better suiting the lightened tone he was going for.

Doran laughed. "Perhaps."

A few minutes later they stepped into the inn and Rontag sat down at a table near the door, while Doran went to get the drinks.

Rontag liked the night here. It was the only time when he didn't sweat in the terrible heat. He had always maintained the notion that one should only sweat when doing hard work, yet here in this land that lay on the edge of the desert, he could be sat doing nothing in the sun and the stifling heat would cause the sweat to roll down his face. At least the heat no longer made him feel ill as it had done when he had first arrived. Fighting in such torrid temperatures was a nightmare, this place was almost like a lost plain of Oblivion. _Perhaps it was._ He thought with half a smile.

Doran arrived with what he called ale and placed one of the two tankards in front of Rontag and sat down with the other in hand.

"Remember when this place used to be full of our battle-brothers?" Rontag asked him before taking a drink of the so called ale.

"Yes I do."

Rontag looked around. The place was fairly quiet with only a few regular patrons. The city was just a shell of what it once was. "Will this city ever be rebuilt to its former glory?"

"I don't know."

Rontag placed his tankard down. He didn't feel like drinking it. He was homesick, not for Skyrim, it was only a place, but for his lost love.

Doran placed his own tankard down on the table. "If I come with you, will you return to Skyrim?"

Rontag's head snapped over to Doran. "No, I couldn't ask you to leave your home."

Doran laughed, it was not a joyful laugh, it was one full of sorrow. "I have nothing left here." he said, the words harsh in his mouth. "I want to help rebuild the city, but all that I see here is the pain of the memories of the past. This place haunts me, both when I'm dreaming and when I'm awake."

"But this is your home."

"You hate this place, we should leave it before it turns you bitter and me mad."

"I don't know."

"You do know!" Doran uttered angrily. "You're just afraid that you made the wrong choice, that you should have returned home instead of coming here to a land you had never even seen before, to continue a fight that was no longer yours to fight." He took a long drink from his tankard before he continued, in a more composed manner. "I have noticed that over the passed few months you have become increasingly unhappy. When we were fighting the Dominion it gave you purpose, something to keep your mind busy. Now with that all over and done with, your mind is free to wander back to what life was before the war. You want to be with her, only you think it is too late."

His friend had an uncanny insight into his mind. "I don't know what to do." Rontag said as he dipped his finger into the ale and begun to swirl it.

"I'll tell you then." his friend told him. "You are going home, Rontag. Tomorrow we'll buy some horses and make our way to Skyrim. You just show up at the stables tomorrow evening ready to go." Doran finished off his ale. "You used to be the strongest man I knew. Over the passed year I've seen your heart grow sour and your purpose in life decline. I will not let it continue!"

"Leave, just like that. Without any thought or planning?"

Doran took a moments pause. "If we plan it then it gives us time to think up excuses as why not to go. We leave and don't look back. You need to do this, or it will haunt you forever."

His friend was right. He had to return home, to see what became of Valerie, to see what he had caused. He just hoped that his actions hadn't hurt her too badly, though he knew in his soul that they had. If she loved him as much as he loved her, then he'd hurt her terribly. He needed to make up for it, he needed to return home.

Rontag finished off his own ale and rose up from his chair. "Why wait!" he questioned. "Why not go now!"

"We cannot simply get up and leave now, we'll have to say goodbye to our battle-brothers that remain here in the city first. I'll make sure they know we are leaving tomorrow night."

Rontag nodded in agreement. It had all happened so quickly, yet it was what he wanted. To return home to his love. Yet he couldn't help but fear if she would even want him back.

* * *

The next day started with a gathering of all the battle-brothers and their families, ready to have one final drink before the two left Hammerfell for what could be forever. They told the tales of the war and drank in honour of those that had fallen in battle.

They all understood why they must leave. Some joked about how it was because they were warriors, that swinging hammers to rebuild homes just wasn't in their blood, or how Rontag simply wasn't strong enough to bear another Hammerfell summer.

Before long the day of music and drunken revelry had turned to a quiet evening and after an hours nap they were ready to leave. With the horses purchased and all the gear loaded, such as rolled up tents, bed rolls and a pot with dismantled stand ready to be reconstructed over a fire for when they made camp.

With the final farewells said and done, they mounted their steeds and began their long night time journey to the city of Taneth, making sure that they gave themselves enough time to avoid the scorching heat of tomorrows midday sun.

Rontag was finally heading home to Skyrim. For the first time since the Aldmeri Dominion had relinquished the war in this hot and dry land, he felt at ease. While the thought of seeing his wife again filled him with joy, there was also the deep feeling of dread. His regret was that it was far too late and that filled his heart with a new anguish. An anguish that might never be vanquished.


	5. One Tall Stranger

Tam stood there, her heart thumping in her chest. She was in the city of Whiterun staring at a large upturned boat that had been transformed into a building. She had learned that this was Jorrvaskr, the home of the Companions, a group of noble warriors that were known as the strongest and most skilled warriors throughout the land. Yet, as of that moment, she wasn't quite convinced that this was truly the place.

She had come to Skyrim, not only to escape the Thalmor, but to join the Companions as well. She wanted so much to be able to become such a well known warrior, that even the Thalmor would be foolish to try and get her, that her fame would be what stopped their unrelenting pursuit of her. Hiding had done nothing to stop them, they had always found her and she had always been forced to move on, each time she became more cautious, more careful to remove any kind of trail that she could have inadvertently left behind. She had become so cautious, that she now adorned full steel-plate armour from head to toe. Armed with a giant steel warhammer on her back. She allowed no one to see who or what she was.

Tam walked forwards, her steps slow at first, then becoming faster as she built up more courage. She then halted once more, mere feet from the front doors of the hall. With both her hands she pushed open two out of the four doors and stepped inside. The first thing that struck her was the smell. It was the distinct smell of sweat, leather and mead. All complimented by the smell of a smoky wood fire. She allowed the doors to swing shut behind her with a bang before she stepped forward looking around the spacious interior. The most prominent feature was the large table that surrounded the huge rectangular fire pit on three sides. sat around the table were multiple people, non of which seemed far more interested in their food and mead then her arrival.

She stepped forward and down some shallow steps towards them. One man, who must have been in his thirties turned to her. He scowled.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I am here because I wish to join the Companions." she said.

The man turned away from her, back to his plate. "You'll want to talk to the Harbinger, Askar. He is below with Kodlak." The man indicated to the right of them where stairs lead downwards. "But be prepared, for he does not just let anyone join." He turned to look at her once more. "Anything else?"

Tam shook her head. "No, that's it. Thank you." she said gratefully before making her way over to where the man had pointed. She descended the stairs and pushed the double doors open. Beneath the mead hall was quite different from above, with stone walls and floors, gave the place a much warmer and cosier feeling than upstairs. She headed down the hallway towards two men, which were sitting at the end through an archway and a set of doors. As she approached they both turned to her, hair white and both wearing large noble looking beards.

"Who is this?" the older, weaker looking man asked. "Does a new warrior wish to join our ranks?"

Tam came to a halt, towering over them. She cleared her throat before she spoke. "I am Tam, and I wish to join the Companions."

The older man smiled. "You do, do you?."

"Yes, very much so." she confirmed.

Askar looked at the younger. "What do you think, Kodlak?"

The younger, but still late middle aged one of the two looked her up and down. "She wears nice armour, but without seeing her eyes I cannot tell."

The older man, who Tam suspected was Askar the Harbinger, was an aged man and looked as though he was nearing the end of his life. His eyes still had the warriors fire in them, yet his body was tired and worn. The Harbinger smiled at Kodlak. "You are learning." he said before turning back to her. "We must see your eyes and therefore into your spirit, to be able to judge your character."

Tam took in a deep breath. She had not taken off any part of her armour in public for so long that it felt strange. It was as if they had just asked her to remove all of her clothes. She knew it was silly to think such stupid thought, but she couldn't help but feel anxiety creep in. Keeping her armour on and not revealing herself had been, at least in her mind, what had kept her safe till now. After clenching her fists in an attempt to build up her courage, she reached up and placed her hands on the helmet. Tam released the clips that kept the face plate in place. One by one they clicked. One by one she got closer to removing it. When the final clip was free, she took a deep breath before finally lifting the face plate up and removing the helmet. She held it at heart level, gripping it's cold hard surface tightly in her hands, her eyes closed shut. After a moment that felt like forever, she opened them looking down at the two men before her. Tam felt more exposed than she had done in the three long years since she had first adorned it.

They both looked at her face before Askar turned to Kodlak. "Is she Companion material?" he asked him.

Kodlak eyed her, he looked deep within her eyes, as if trying to see into her very soul. "She has the fire in her eyes, and the will and means to be a great warrior."

Askar nodded and smiled. "I see that too."

Tam felt a wave of relief wash over her. They could see her want for this, the could feel her want for it and they could see that her will was strong.

Then Askar shook his head. "No." he said simply.

She stared at him, not quite sure what he meant by that. Askar turned to Kodlak. "I see what you see, yet I also see what you don't see."

Kodlak looked about as confused as she felt. "What do you see, Harbinger?" he asked.

"I see that her destiny lies elsewhere." Askar shook his head. "No, this is not her path."

Tam gripped her helmet tightly in her hands until her fingers felt like they might snap. "What do you mean?" Her question was simple, yet Askar did not give a simple answer.

"I sense that your destiny lies beyond the Companions and to allow you to join would be a mistake." He looked over at Kodlak for a moment before turning his attention back to her. "Your destiny lies elsewhere. The stars will guide you and you shall be guided."

Tam could feel anger building up within her at the nonsensical response. "You'll have to me more clear?" she demanded not even trying to hide her anger. "You cannot make up nonsense and expect me to accept it!"

"I cannot be more clear, I do not understand what I see myself. I will say this. If it makes you angry to hear these words, then perhaps you are not ready to join us anyway."

Tam placed her helmet back on and clicked it into place. "If that is what you think." she said with a hollow finality.

"It is not what I think, it is what I see."

Tam did not care how he justified it. She was who she was and he had just condemned her to a life of running. "I will leave you then." she uttered almost silently.

"Return in a week and I will look at you again." Askar told her, trying to diffuse her anger. "However, I do have a feeling that your destiny has long since already begun to take it's course."

She stood there for a moment trying to understand what he was telling her. "You think my destiny involves something better than joining the best warriors in all the world?" Even as she said it, it sounded ridiculous. "That does not seem to make sense. I am a warrior who has a destiny different from being with the greatest?"

Askar smiled, a warm and comforting smile. "It may seem strange, I do not understand it myself, but it is what I sense, perhaps a message from the Gods themselves. I feel that they have a different destiny for you."

Tam didn't know what to say, she didn't know what to do. She had come here with an expectation that she would be either excepted or rejected outright. Not have some mystical life reading from an old Nord warrior. She felt unsure of herself, unsure what she should do next. Her plan had ended here. If she was rejected she had never known what to do next, but to be told her destiny lie elsewhere was troubling to her.

"Do you have coin?" Kodlak asked her.

She looked down at him. "Huh?" she asked, not knowing what he was getting at. "What's it to you if I do?"

"You can stay at the Bannered Mare." Kodlak told her. "If you have coin to pay that is."

"I guess that is what I will do then." she said. "I shall return in one week, unless of course you are correct and I am magically whisked away to a better life."

Kodlak looked over at Askar. "He rarely is wrong, though when he is, he is very wrong."

Askar laughed. "I should have you mop the floors for that." he joked to his friend. "But I know it would upset Tilma."

Tam ignored their banter, instead she felt a shiver go up her spine. She didn't like to think her future was already set by the divines.

She slowly turned around and left. Her spirit had taken a knock, but she would recover like she always did. She just hoped she had a week before her pursuers found her again, though in reality it would be much harder for them to get their way here in Skyrim. Since she had arrived in this land she had overheard the most racist discussions and comments regarding Elven folk. If they tried anything here in the city of the Companions, then they would surely have a most unpleasant response.

* * *

After several hours wandering the city she finally stepped into the Bannered Mare and was instantly greeted by laughter and banter. A dark haired female Nord played a lute while the drunk danced around, mead and ale sloshing out of their Tankards and onto the floor. Even though the sun was low in the sky, it still seemed early for such things. Perhaps the fact it was Loredas had something to do with it?

Tam stepped over to the bar, the dark haired barmaid came over and smiled as she looked up at her.

"You're a tall one." the barmaid said, commenting on Tam's height of almost eight feet.

"Is there a room I can rent?" Tam asked.

"Ten gold for the night."

"Can I rent for a week?"

The woman shook her head. "We don't usually do that, though I'll tell you what. If you wait for a few minutes then you can speak to my father Barnabas, when he comes down to serve. He owns the inn."

"Thank you."

"My name is Hulda by the way." the barmaid said.

"Tam." she responded. It wasn't her proper name, yet she found it pleasing. It was simple and fairly generic. "I'll just wait." she said.

"Can I get you a drink."

"Perhaps later." Tam said as she sat down at the bar.

A few minutes later an older gentleman moved behind the bar and talked to Hulda who then walked off. He looked over at her with a wide smile.

"Hulda just told me that you are looking for a room to rent for a week, is that right?" Barnabas asked her.

Tam nodded. "Yes I am."

"I take it the helmet doesn't come off?"

"No." she said darkly.

Seeming to get the hint Barnabas got straight to business. "Let's speak on you renting the room. What's your offer?"

"One hundred pieces." she offered.

He smiled. "That's thirty more than if it was rented out seven times."

"Do you mind if I take my food up there with me?" she asked.

"Not at all, as long as you buy it from me."

"And I also ask that I'm not disturbed." she added.

Barnabas didn't appear to mind the request, in fact he made a joke out of it. "As long as I don't hear chanting or see smoke coming from up there, then you won't see a peep from us till you leave."

"Deal." she agreed. "So what's on the menu?"

A few minutes later she was in a large upstairs room that lay in the back. It was lightly decorated with a double bed and through a small opening she could peer down into the inn. Perfect for if the Thalmor decided to show up.

She checked that the door was closed before she took off her helmet, then after several minutes, the stretched in the light clothes she wore beneath. It was good to get out of the armour after so many months of almost constant wear, she just wished she didn't have to wear it all the time. It was for her own safety of course, she didn't want anyone to recognize her. There were spies all over the place and she couldn't be too careful.

She looked across the room at a bucket that lay in the corner. At least now it would be easier to relieve herself of her bodily waste. One of the hardship that constantly wearing armour made abhorrently difficult.

Today hadn't gone at all like she had expected it to go. The Companions had been her final course of action in the attempt to evade the Thalmor. So far she had tried everything and for a while she thought she had discovered the answer. She had decided that Hammerfell was the safest place in all of Tamriel to live. A place they couldn't get her, but there had been spies everywhere and she had been discovered as she always was, forcing her to flee once again. Her plan then was to return to Cyrodiil. To try and hide in plain sight. After all it was one of the only thing she hadn't tried, but that had ended rather quickly with her running for her life. That's when she had decided to come here to Skyrim with one last hope. Instead of hiding, she would join the Companions and let her own fame and membership of the organization dissuade the Thalmor. She had suspected that they couldn't get her there, not when she was among the most skilled fighters there were in the world.

Tam laid down on the bed, keeping her warhammer in hand. She felt not only exhausted from the days events, but from life in general. Would she be destined to run forever? And what did Askar mean when he said she had a different destiny. She had at the time assumed it meant something better, but what if it didn't? What if it meant that her destiny was at the end of an Aldmeri sword? With a heavy sigh she closed her tired eyes and let herself drift off to sleep, her warhammer in hand, to the sound of laughter and music.


	6. The Scorned and the Bigoted

Magoza awoke feeling fresh and well rested. It had been a few days since she had been invited to stay at Valerie's house and so far she had done very little of anything meaningful to help her gracious host. Today she was going to change all that.

She made her way down the stairs into the kitchen area, where Valerie was already sat at the small table that lay next to the front door

Valerie looked over at Magoza and smiled. "Would you like to sit down and have some bread for breakfast?"

Magoza nodded as she made her way over to the table. "Yes, that would be nice." she said taking the bread that Valerie offered her. "Thank you, this is all so very kind of you." She put it down onto the plate in front of her and stared at it for a moment.

"Is everything okay?" Valerie asked, her face turning to one of worry.

"Erm, yes." the Orsimer responded. "Well, it's just that I feel like I'm stealing from you."

"It's a gift." the Nord reassured her. "Though I do have to ask?"

"Yes?"

"Where did you learn such good manners? You could hardly have learned them in a stronghold."

Magoza took a moment to gather her thoughts before she answered the question. "Well, my mother managed to get a hold of some books that she got from the outside. She told me that I'd need good manners in the outside world, that those that live beyond the strongholds have many strange customs. That politeness is the most cherished and strange of them all. She got the books from an old Imperial Soldier, called Meratur, who used to be in the Legion with our clan chief Burag and my mother, before they returned to the stronghold that is and Burag became chief."

Valerie raised both of her eyebrows. "I thought that outsiders weren't allowed in a stronghold?"

Magoza nodded. "You are correct. My mother met with him in secret. I remember him from when I was very small, he was an Altmer."

Magoza expected a response from her new friend at the mention of a high elf, but she showed no visible reaction of any kind.

"Then one day the chief then told him not to come back, and that was that."

"When did your chief serve in the Legion?"

"Before the war, I believe it was fifteen years ago. He's still a very strong warrior despite his years. No one has been able to defeat him for the role of chief. In fact another stronghold claimed it was because our camp was full of weak milk drinkers."

"I guess he didn't take that well?"

"No he challenged the other chief to hand to hand combat."

"What happened?"

"Our chief smashed him up so badly that he asked to be finished off by him."

Valerie went quiet for a moment, looking away towards the fire place. She turned her attention back to Magoza. "I'm sorry, I interrupted you before, you were telling me where you learned your manners."

"Yes of course. My mother got many books for me. I leaned to read the stories and I took the magical knowledge from the spell tomes she got me."

"Sounds like your mother wanted more for you than to be just another future wife of some other stronghold's chief."

"Yes, she did." Magoza said, feeling sadness well up within her. She missed her mother, but what was done was done.

"So, I will be heading to the stables in a few moments." Valerie began

"Is there anything I can do?" Magoza asked eagerly. "I really want to be able to help out."

"Not at the stables." Valerie said with half a smile. "If you want to look for work, ask in the Bannered Mare. They always know what's going on around the city, though they'd probably have you chopping wood for them."

"Thanks." Magoza said honestly. "That would be enough, at least for now."

"Just head down to the end of the street, you'll find the inn there"

"Okay, I'm sure I'll find it."

Valerie reached into her pocket before placing a key onto the table. "Take this. It's a key to the house."

Magoza stared at the key for a moment. "Thank you." she said gratefully.

Valerie stood up and made her way to the door. "Keep yourself safe, and don't listen if people say anything nasty to you, all right."

"I understand and I'll see you later."

"See you tonight." Valerie opened the door. A moment later she was gone.

Magoza stared at the key for a moment. She was almost a stranger to her host, yet she was trusting enough to give her a key to her house. She reached over and took the key into her hand and placed it into her pocket. She then stood up and made her way to the door. Upon exiting the house she locked the door, making sure it was truly locked before she made her way to the Market where the Bannered Mare Inn was located. As she walked one of the guards looked at her, his face hidden behind his tall full faced helmet. She smiled at him.

"I've got my eye on you, orc." he said before moving off. Her smile disappeared at the distrust in the guard's voice. She turned and continued on, shaking off the unpleasant encounter. She made her way through the busy market and up the short set of stairs that lead to the inn. Upon entering, she made her way to the bar, where a woman that appeared to be in her late thirties was standing.

"Excuse me?" Magoza began.

"Yes?" the woman responded with a smile. "What would you like?"

"I'm looking for work."

"Well there isn't really anything within the city at the moment, that I know of that is. If you want work here in the inn, then you'd best talk to my father, Barnabas. He's the owner."

Magoza smiled. "Where is he?"

"He's asleep. He runs the place overnight, which is when I suggest you come back." the woman informed her. "Though if you want to make yourself useful now, then grab an axe and chop some wood for the fire. I can give you some gold if you can bring me twenty bits of firewood."

"If you've got an axe, then I can do that."

"Sure." she said as she reached under the bar and pulled out a woodcutter's axe. "The wood and block is across the market, next to the general store, I keep on asking my father to have a block put up next to the inn, but he says that there's no point."

"Thank you." the orc responded before adding. "My name is Magoza, by the way."

"Hulda." the woman responded.

Magoza took the axe and made her way out of the inn. She walked over to the chopping block that lay right outside the walls of the general store, just as Hulda had said.

She picked up a short log from the large pile next to her and began to chop. It wasn't long before she had twenty pieces of firewood, which she clumsily carried over to the inn. Once inside, Hulda told her to put it down near the fire pit that lay in the middle of the inn. She did so and was compensated with ten gold pieces.

Magoza left a little underwhelmed by her short lived career as a woodcutter. She had no idea what to do next, but whatever it was it would be better than sitting in Valerie's house all day. It would be boring and she wanted something to do. After a moments thought, she decided to have a wander around the city, there might just be someone would need help with something.

As she looked around she couldn't help but feel small in the massive city. Whiterun was odd compared to what she was used to. It was surrounded by a stone wall and rose up from the lowest district, where the shops were, till it reached a massive palace like building at the top, where she assumed the king of the city lived.

She walked up a set of stairs that lay between two thin channels of water that flowed quickly downwards into gutters at the bottom. She wandered under a stone archway and over a small wooden bridge into a circular garden-like area, that was surrounded by the water that cascaded down a number of small waterfalls all the way up from the large palace at the top of the hill. In the centre of the area was a large tree surrounded by three benches.

Across at the other side, just outside of the small garden-like area beneath the large palace and cascading falls, was a large statue of a man holding a small sword pointing downwards at a snake that he was stood on. She looked to the right to see a building that appeared to be a large upside-down boat at the top of two sets of stairs. To the left of the boat-like building on top of a rocky mound was a giant stone eagle that seemed to radiate a strange power.

"That's Jorrvaskr." a deep masculine voice said from behind her. She turned around to see a late middle aged Nord man. "It's the home of the Companions."

"Who are they?" she asked.

"They are noble warriors, the most honourable in the whole of Tamriel, perhaps even the world."

"And what's that stone eagle statue thing?"

"That?" the man asked incredulously. "Why that's the Skyforge. Best steel in Skyrim."

"Do you know The Companions?" Magoza asked him.

"Know them? I am one of them." he said proudly. "Vignar Gray-Mane."

"I'm Magoza."

"I've seen scrawnier people try to get into the Companions." he said looking at her arms. "Well if you want to join then you'll have to prove yourself. Not like those damned Imperials that rolled over at the first sign of trouble. They surrendered to those elves and now we're expected to give up our history, our legacy? We're just expected to pretend that Talos didn't ascend to the level of Divine!?" Magoza didn't audibly respond, she simply nodded hoping he wouldn't press her on her thoughts on the subject. "Anyway." he continued. "I hear that you're staying with that Valerie Iron-Axe. Her husband has yet to return from Cyrodiil. Been five years, or is it six? Perhaps too humiliated to show his face. Others that survived the war have returned here while others have stayed behind to watch over the border with the Dominion. I don't know why they'd bother after we surrendered and all."

"I guess the Emperor did what he thought was right." Magoza replied.

"Really?" he rebuked angrily "I say that they're all cowards. The soldiers should have continued fighting, refused to end the war on such terms. The Emperor is now just a puppet!"

Once again she didn't respond hoping that he'd just leave her. He regarded her for a moment in disdain before heading up the stairs towards the building he had called Jorrvaskr, without even uttering a single farewell or goodbye. In all honesty she was glad he was gone. She hated discussing the war. She barely knew anything about it, nor did she really know anything about Talos or what he really stood for. All she knew was that at the compound in which she was raised all she heard was the greatness of Malacath. She never really even knew of the Divines, or really knew that there were nine of them, well eight if she was to obey the current law.

She turned around only to find a city guard standing right behind her. "I heard about your little magic trick outside the city." he said to her in a derisive manner. "You better not bring any of that in here or I'll have you thrown right into the Dragonsreach dungeon."

Magoza looked down at the ground, feeling rejected. "I won't." she said in almost a whisper.

"What was that?" he asked her.

"I won't." she said loudly.

"You better not." he threatened before moving off.

Magoza suddenly felt anger boil inside of her. How dare he talk to her like that. After all she had done absolutely _nothing _wrong. She began to walk after him, her fists clenched.

The guard turned around and looked at her as she approached. "What's the matter?" he asked in almost a laugh. "You dare do something, give me an excuse!"

Magoza stopped herself before she did anything stupid and simply turned away. Her body began to shake as she made her way back down to Valerie's house, where she planned to remain for the rest of the day.

As she reached the house door and pulled out the key to unlock the door she felt a new wave of anger wash over her. How could she have let him get away with that! He had been nasty to her for no reason and she had folded. It was far too late now as the helmets they wore would make it impossible to identify which soldier it was. She opened the door, stepped inside and locked it behind her before sitting down at the table and placed her head in her hands. Too proud to cry, but to weak to ignore it. She no longer wanted to stay in this city and all she had managed to get was ten pieces of gold, which was far too little to get a carriage ride up to Winterhold, and she did not want to ask Valerie, not when she was so severely short on gold herself. She would undoubtedly have to make the journey alone as she had done since leaving High Rock. All she had to do was be a little more careful of the giants. She would use her gold to get some food to take with her and she'd set off as soon as she could.

In the very short time she'd known her, Valerie had become a friend in a way. A good friend. And she felt bad leaving her, but she couldn't stay here. The people, including Valerie to some extent had a problem with magic, and that problem had been the main reason she had left the stronghold in the first place.

She looked down in her hand as a ball of electricity formed in it. She then closed her hand and let it fizzle out. She was a mage at heart and she knew that she had to do what her heart told her. Her very being made doing anything else an impossibility. When Valerie returned she would tell her of her decision to leave.

* * *

Valerie returned home after yet another unprofitable day to find Magoza sitting at the table. It looked as though she had been sat there a long time and her face was full of sadness. "Are you okay?" she asked her before sitting opposite her.

Magoza seemed to be organizing her thoughts. A pained look crossed her face. "You've been very kind to me." she said. "But I cannot stay here."

"You cannot be ready to head off again yet?" Valerie said with a sad smile.

"The people here don't really like me." Magoza said. "I can tell by the way they speak to me, look at me. I don't think I should stay here."

Valerie felt sorrow wash over her. This was possibly the nicest person she had ever met and yet she was being ostracized by the very fact that she was a magic user. She had to admit it herself that she had her own bias against magic. She hated it. She hated the fact that it existed, and that a single person could have the power of many in the palm of their hands. She understood why people would be afraid of her. And that was the sad fact. People were afraid, after all, you couldn't disarm a magic user.

"Hulda at the inn was nice. It's just that the guards weren't very pleasant and I ran into a man named Vignar..."

"Vignar?" Valerie interrupted. "He's a proud man, but I wasn't aware that he had a problem with anyone except the Dominion and the Empire. The Companions are usually fairly neutral on such things."

"It wasn't any of that. I just said some wrong things to him."

"If it was about the war, than that makes sense." Valerie said, trying her hardest to sound warm and comforting.

Valerie didn't want Magoza to leave. Before the war, both her and her husband had not really wanted children, but after she had suffered her wound and her husband gone, she was getting older and needed that feeling of motherhood. Now a young woman had fallen into her lap and she had in a ludicrously short period of time grown sort of a bond over her. It didn't matter that she was an orc. All that mattered was that she was a young woman that needed guidance. Valerie rubbed her eyes. "All I ask is that you stay for a few more days. Just until we can get you a carriage to Winterhold." she said with a false hope that she could convince her to stay.

The orc nodded. Either in agreement or simply giving up and excepting that she did not want her to leave yet. "I'll stay a little longer." she told her.

"Thank you." Valerie responded.

"I don't know what to make of this place. So many people with such different opinions." Magoza said.

"That's how it is out here." the Nord explained. "You'll just have to try and get used to it."

"Maybe."

"You will, you'll see."


	7. A Bump in the Road

Rontag and Doran rode up to the stables that lay on the outskirts of the port city of Rihad. The city lay well beyond the arid desert, in the greenery close to the mountains of eastern Hammerfell. It would be their last stop in a city before their colossal journey all the way up to Elinhir, from there they would finally venture into Skyrim.

They were both tired and would sleep through the day as they had done since leaving Gilane and while they no longer needed to travel by night as the sun was not as harsh this far east, they had become accustomed to riding that time of day, so they would keep it up till they reached their destination of Whiterun.

They talked with the stable master who looked as though he had only been awake for the passed half hour or so, he nodded and yawned as they spoke to him, before he opened up the gate into the yard allowing them to bring their horses in. With their horses stabled up and the care fee paid, they made their way into the city looking for an inn.

By the time they found that inn, the sun was already well up in the sky, but it did not matter to them. They paid for rooms and soon they were both fast asleep.

When the evening came and they had rejuvenated from yesterdays journey, they headed to the inn's main room where they ordered a nice meal of meat with a few small potatoes. They were both sitting, enjoying that meal when they found themselves being bothered by a young Redguard man, who had seemingly decided on a whim, to join them uninvited.

"So," the man began, "you two are on a journey?"

Neither Rontag nor Doran responded. They just continued to eat their food.

The man continued. "You're on your way to Skyrim?"

Rontag stopped eating and glared at the man. "How did you know that!?" he questioned him suspiciously.

"I overheard you talking."

Doran cracked his knuckles. "Leave us!" he ordered.

The young man simply smiled. "A bit touchy aren't we?"

Doran drew his scimitar and slammed the blade into the table, missing the stranger's fingers by half an inch. The man let out a yelp as he quickly yanked his hand away. Doran looked the stranger straight in the eye. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to put your nose in where it don't belong."

The man raised both hands in defence. "I didn't mean to pry, it's just that I've always wanted to be a bard."

Rontag folded his arms unconvinced. "Really."

Doran pulled his sword from the table, none around them seemingly to have noticed the commotion. "That doesn't explain why you are bothering us?"

"I was getting to that before you tried to lop my fingers off." the man told them in earnest. "And yes I am a bard."

Doran gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. "I don't really care what you are, It still doesn't tell us why you are annoying us."

"Well," the man began. "I've been wanting to go to Skyrim, It's just that I haven't had the actual means of getting there."

Rontag looked confused. "Why do you want to go to Skyrim?" he asked.

"To be a bard." The young man explained.

Rontag glanced at Doran, before returning his gaze to the man. "I thought you said you were already a bard?"

"Well I am, it's just that I want to make it official, something to show people."

Doran put his sword away before questioning the bard some more. "And why should we help you?"

The man frowned. "Erm, because your good people?"

Rontag laughed heartily. "Are we?"

Doran leaned forwards, resting his arms on the table. "Why are you telling us this?" he asked.

"I wish to join you on your journey so I can go to the Bards College in Solitude. I can sing and entertain you along the way."

"No." Rontag stated plainly. "Especially if your going to sing. Besides we are not off to Solitude."

"Where are you going?"

"Whiterun." Doran said. "Well away from Solitude."

"Well I can easily catch a carriage from there when we arrive." the man said.

Rontag glared at him. "You got a horse?"

The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well no, but that might not be a problem."

"You aren't riding on the back of one of us, we've got equipment that makes that quite difficult." Doran explained. "besides I don't want you on the back of me and I don't think my friend does either."

"Looks like you'll be staying here a little longer then." Rontag said as both he and Doran stood up. "We've got to set off now so we can get a good run before tomorrow."

The man stood up with them. "Wait, you can't just leave."

"Why?" Doran asked.

"Well you can, but it's not very polite." the man explained.

"All right, what's your name?" Rontag asked.

The man smiled. "Kalon."

"Sorry Kalon, we cannot bring you with us." Doran said with a smirk as he picked up his bow and quiver, that rested at the foot of the table.

Kalon followed them out of the inn as they made their way down the dark lamp lit street towards the stables.

Rontag turned to their new unwanted friend. "Kalon please return home, or by the Gods I promise I will put you in the ground."

Kalon halted in his tracks and they left him behind in the street, with a dejected look on his face. Shortly afterwards they entered the stables through the gate. "We're here for our horses!" Rontag shouted, trying to get the currently unseen stable master's attention. Doran moved off to the stables as Rontag checked through the window of the stable master's house.

"Rontag!" he heard Doran shout.

He ran over to the stables and found his friend looking down over the body of the stable master who was covered in blood. He looked like he had been bludgeoned in the head quite heavily.

"What happened?" Rontag asked.

"He's dead, and all the horses are gone."

Rontag looked around. Sure enough it was empty. "how does this happen without anyone noticing?"

"This town got hit hard by the war, just like the rest. How many guards have you seen since we arrived?"

"Not many." The Nord agreed.

They both stepped out of the stable and made their way back to the gate, their journey had just taken a devastating turn.

"What do we do?" Rontag asked.

"I have no idea, maybe see if anyone knows anything."

They both turned to head back into the city, when they both bumped into Kalon.

"You came back for me." he said with a smile.

Rontag and Doran both looked at each other, not at all amused. It was bad enough that they had lost their horses. Now they had to deal with the wannabe bard again.

Doran folded his arms as he addressed him. "Our horses have been stolen and the owner of the stable is dead."

"What!" Kalon said in clear shock. "I thought they'd been dealt with!"

"Who had been dealt with?" Rontag asked.

"A bunch of bandits and horse thieves. They live in the old mine a few miles north." The bard explained. "There was a bounty on them and it was supposed to have been claimed."

Doran looked hopefully at his friend before moving closer to Kalon. "Can you take us there?" he asked. "To this old mine?"

"Err, I guess I can." he responded clearly not fond of the idea.

Rontag placed his hands on his hips. "We don't want you to fight, just lead us there."

"I can do that."

"Good."

* * *

The journey to the old mine with the bard turned out to be far less aggravating than they had expected. Kalon had sung old war songs as they walked the long road. Whether or not it had been his intention, the songs had placed both warriors in a good mood for battle.

Upon arrival they told the bard to return to the city. He complied eagerly, almost running off into the darkness. Both warriors stared around the immediate area. The mine had a small makeshift settlement encircling the entrance. Off in one corner was a small makeshift stable, where the stolen horses were being kept. What they would do with the horses they didn't know, however they had made the mistake of stealing their horses and now they would get them back.

Doran crouched down counting fifteen bandits in the torch lit encampment. There were sure to be more within the mine, so taking them out quickly and quietly was probably the best strategy.

"So what is the plan?" Doran asked to no reply. He looked around to see Rontag going straight in, steel battle axe drawn, legs a blur. "Just like always." he joked to himself as he looked for higher ground, so he could use his bow.

As Rontag cleaved the first man's head in half, alerting the whole encampment to his presence, Doran quickly pulled an arrow out of his quiver while swearing at his friend's haste. With the release of the bowstring the arrow found its target, striking a bandit in her neck. Rontag continued to smash and cleave his way through the bandits while Doran shot his arrows, one after another his arrows found their intended targets. Blood and corpses began to pile up, as the numbers dwindled till there was non, however the battle was far from over. The door to the mine burst open as a flood of bandits came running out. Doran quickly assessed their numbers. There were far too many of them now, at least twenty. He saw their horses with the others, unfortunately they were no longer packing their equipment, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. He began to run towards the makeshift stable.

"Rontag!" he yelled. "Go for the horses ya damned fool!"

The Nord was more than happy to leave this fight, considering they were now outnumbered. He ran with his axe in hand. Doran jumped on his horse, Rontag close behind. They both rode out of there, bandits mounted the remaining five horses and began pursuit, bows and swords drawn.

Doran twisted his torso and prepared his bow. He aimed for the bandit closest to him and fired. The arrow went into his chest and he fell backwards off the horse with a shout. Meanwhile Rontag slowed down and drew his axe. As a bandit got in close, instead of swinging the steel axe, the Nord used it like a spear, stabbing the pursuer with the spike that lay on the top of the axe handle shaft. The bandit fell from his horse, causing the horse behind it to grind to a halt and buck it's rider of into the dirt. The other bandits pursuing, decided it was best to abandon the chase and let them go before they too were injured or killed.

"Well!" Rontag shouted over to his friend. "That was fun."

Doran shook his head in disagreement. "You charged in without a plan of action. It was reckless and it could have gotten us killed."

"Quit your bellyaching, we got the horses didn't we?"

"Yes, but if we had planned first we may have had time to track down our equipment." Doran pointed out.

Rontag laughed. "You assume that they hadn't taken our stuff into the mine."

The Redguard let out an angry grunt. "Let's just get back to Rihad, we're gonna need to buy more equipment."

* * *

Kalon was waiting for them as they arrived back at the city of Rihad. Both Rontag and Doran dismounted their horses and tied them to a nearby hitching rail.

"You got them back!" the bard said with a wide smile.

Doran scowled. "Yeah, but with none of our supplies, we can't continue."

Rontag growled in agreement. "All the stores are closed and I don't want to leave the horses again, not in this city."

Doran looked around. "Did you tell the guards?" he asked Kalon.

"Yeah, they were happy for the information and will see what they can do about upping patrols near the stables."

Doran knew that meant very little would be done. Southern Hammerfell was almost completely in ruin. The people here had returned home to find it almost unliveable, with no real leadership left and the law enforcement being nothing but a joke, it was no wonder the bandits were able to steal all the horses and kill the stable master.

Rontag climbed back on his horse with a smile. "We don't need any of that stuff. let's just ride."

Doran glared at him. "Don't be stupid, it's a long journey we have ahead of us and we are totally unprepared. Do you plan on sleeping in the dirt?"

"Well." Rontag stammered.

"I've got equipment." Kalon interrupted.

They both looked at him.

Doran scratched his face, clearly not liking where the conversation was headed. "I suppose you want us to bring you along in return?"

"I won't have to ride on the back of any of you. My father owned an old two horse wagon we can use."

"Owned?" Rontag asked.

"He's dead, died in the war. it's an old two horse wagon with plenty of storage space, I thought those elves would have taken it when they occupied this city, but when I returned, it was still there."

Rontag folded his arms. "Why only mention this now?"

"I didn't trust you before, if I told you of it you may have killed me and just taken it for yourselves." he explained. "So do you want it, or should I stay here?"

Rontag smirked. "You trust us now? Who says we won't just kill you?" he joked.

Doran ignored his friend. "It'd make the journey easier." he said, before adding. "To have the wagon I mean, not what Rontag said."

Rontag couldn't argue. "If the wagon's good, then you can come along."

"I'll take you to it, it's just down the street."

They untied their horses and lead them down the street to where the wagon was located. Once they had both horses hooked onto it, Kalon loaded the back up with bed rolls and cooking equipment that Kalon got out of a nearby shed.

"I think we're ready to go." Rontag said as he marveled at the wagon. "I've checked the sturdiness of it and it'll get us there."

"Hold on." Kalon said. "I need to go somewhere before we go."

"Go on." Doran said. "Don't take too long."

Kalon moved off down the street, a few minutes later he returned with a young Redguard woman who appeared to be around twenty, a similar age to him and wearing the typical loose Hammerfell garb, that enabled the air too circulate, cooling the wearer. She also had a rather short sword, or a long knife in her belt. It was also curved much like all the other Hammerfell blades.

"Who's this?" Rontag asked. "You didn't say anything about bringing anyone else along."

"This is Jalia, the love of my life." Kalon preened.

Jalia eyed the two warriors. "Who are they?" she asked distrustfully. "You didn't say anything about going anywhere with two strange men."

"They are brave warriors and skilled fighters. they'll get us to Skyrim." he explained to his love. "We'll be safe, they'll make sure of it."

"News to me." Rontag whispered quietly to himself. "If they fell out the back of the wagon, it wouldn't bother me any."

Jalia, not hearing him, turned to Kalon. "I want adventure, not to go to some oblivion hole so you can get some certificate that claims you're a bard." She turned to them with a scowl. "No offence, but I don't trust strange men."

Rontag leaned over to Doran. "This'll be a fun trip." he whispered.

"We will have adventure, my love." the bard proclaimed. "We just need the coin to buy proper adventuring equipment, and we can travel together, as a travelling show of song and dance."

"A freak show, if you're involved." She derided. She held up her hands to take back her callous remark. "That was a bit harsh, but why of all the places in the world, do we have to go there?"

"Because that is where the acclaimed college is."

"Why couldn't they have put it somewhere warm."

Seeing the two argue made Rontag feel anger deep within. They had no idea what they both shared. Love was a most sacred thing and they were taking it for granted, as he had once. By the time he realized what he had left behind, he was in a strange land with strange people. The clothing and architecture were wrong. Nothing felt right here, it was all foreign to him. He missed her so much, to just be able to see her again. He hoped he would soon, and he hoped she would be able to forgive him, even if he himself couldn't. He had done her a terrible wrong and it chewed away at his heart.

Doran waved his hand in front of the Nord's eyes bringing him out of his reverie. "We're asking you if you're ready to go?"

Rontag realized that both Kalon and Jalia were now sitting in the back of the wagon among the equipment, ready to go. There argument seemingly over for now.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought."

Rontag climbed onto the left side of the front, while Doran went around the back and climbed onto the right side, gripping the reins and turning to their two passengers.

"We're ready." Kalon said with a broad smile.

"Should I have bought a coat?" Jalia questioned.

Rontag shrugged. "Pfft, you should be fine." He lied. She was used to the heat of Hammerfell. The cold of Skyrim would make her most unhappy. He certainly wasn't looking forward to her complaining, so he would encourage her to buy some thicker garments once they reached Elinhir, or perhaps Falkreath once they had finally crossed the boarder. He looked at Kalon and then at Doran. They would have to do the same, unless they liked the cold.

Doran smiled at him. "Let's get going." he said as he cracked the reins. Their long journey north to Elinhir had begun.


	8. Bandits and the Axe

The day started quite well. Valerie cooked up some breakfast before heading out to the stables, while Magoza once again headed to the inn to see if there was any more work.

Inside she sat at the bar and reached into her pocket, pulling out the ten gold septims she had earned only a few days before. It was only a pittance. Barely enough to buy food, let alone anything else.

"Are you hungry?" Hulda asked her from behind the bar.

Magoza shook her head. "No, I'm just wondering where I can get coin from." If she wanted to eventually get to the Mages College of Winterhold then she would need money to pay for the carriage ride. While she thought she might be able to make it on foot, there was absolutely no way that Valerie would allow it.

"Depends what you're willing to do to get it." Hulda told her as she wiped the counter down with a cloth.

"Why, have you got anything?"

"No firewood is needed right now, sorry. Though there is this bounty the Jarl's men brought earlier."

"Bounty?" the young Orsimer asked her interest peaked. "For who?"

"Some no good brigands took off with the Jarl's axe. I don't know how they got hold of it, but there's a pretty big bounty to get it back. They're apparently hold up in the old Silent Moons Camp, an old Nord structure to the north of here."

"How much?" Magoza asked.

"Three-hundred septims." Hulda responded. "Though I don't think you could get it back, you look very young. How old are you anyway?"

"I'm old enough to deal with it." she said.

Hulda shook her head. "Forget I said anything."

"I can handle it." Magoza said getting up from the stool. Suddenly feeling confident. She had made it all the way here from High Rock and even survived a giant stomping on her, how hard could a couple of thuggish bandits be? Besides she needed to show the people of this city her worth, especially Valerie. She wanted to show them that she was on their side and she wanted to prove it by getting the axe back. She also desperately needed the gold. Besides, she might not have to attack anyone. She just had to be silent and unseen. She thought herself good at that.

"No, please don't try." Hulda said pleadingly. "I shouldn't have said anything. These are dangerous people and you don't even have a weapon."

"I feel confident that I can handle a couple of bandits." the Orsimer said as she held her head up high, trying to make herself appear bigger than her height of four foot nine.

"I can see that I will not be able to dissuade you." the barkeep said with a finality. "Just make sure you come out safe."

Magoza nodded as she made her way to the door. With the ten gold in her pocket, she made her way over to the general store.

Inside the store was full of odd bits and pieces, though she was only after one thing. The shopkeeper bid her hello as she approached the counter. "Good morning." he greeted.

"Morning." she responded with a smile. "I was wondering if you had a map of the hold."

"I do." he confirmed.

"Does it have the locations of the nearby ancient Nord structures?"

"No, why?" he asked becoming slightly suspicious.

"Do you know where the Silent Moons Camp is?" she asked him as nicely as she could, hoping that he would tell her.

"Buy the map and I'll mark it on there." he said as he leaned forward onto his counter, eager to make a sale. "Though just to let you know, bandits tend to make that place their home, I heard that's how it got the word 'camp' in its title."

"How much for the map?"

"Twelve gold."

"I only have ten."

"That'll do." he said, happily reaching under the counter and pulling out a rolled up map. He unrolled it and with a quill that he pulled out of an ink fountain, he placed an X on the it and wrote a tiny SMC. "There you go."

Magoza gave him the ten gold pieces and hastily made her way out of the shop. Her goal was simple. Take out some bandits and return the Jarl's axe. It sounded simple, she hoped it would be, but deep down she knew that it could easily take a turn for the worse.

After returning to Valerie's house to pick up her hide armour and a satchel, she headed out of the city. It would be quite a long walk, but she wouldn't allow that to hinder her. She kept her mind on the task ahead, no need for stray thoughts of how foolish she was being.

* * *

Magoza observed two bandits as they sat on the steps outside of the old crumbling structure. A third came out of a wooden door from inside and talked to them for a few minutes, He headed inside while they made their way to the very top, where they entered an open stone structure.

It had taken her a good few hours to make her way here, and now she was having serious second thoughts on taking them on. They had large, nasty looking weapons and hefty armour that she wasn't even sure if she could break through with her magic or not. That was not all though, they were people, they had feelings, they had hopes, dreams and they felt pain.

She forced herself to think about all the people that these bandits had hurt, killed and robbed. All the innocent life they had probably taken over the years. It gave her enough drive to see through with what she had come here for. They couldn't be allowed to hurt anyone else.

She began to sneak forward towards the structure that had been built into the hillside and slowly made her way up the rock steps towards the top circular structure that the two bandits had entered. She listened intently as she stepped into the left entrance, to see if she could hear anything. She heard talking, but she could not make out what they were saying. She moused around the cold curved stone corridor that surrounded the central area, eventually coming upon an opening into the roofless room, that lay in the centre.

The two bandits that she had seen come up here, were now sat at a table next to a hot forge and workbench, drinking some sort of beverage and laughing loudly. She listened in to what they were saying.

"...To think that the fool trusted him." the first said to the second.

"He had been in the Jarl's employ for over two years. He simply told him to take his axe for sharpening. Only he brought it to us." The second stated.

"He expected us to pay him for it."

"Well we did didn't we?"

"If by payment, you mean with our swords sticking out of his throat."

They both laughed, their voices full of joy and malice. Magoza felt panic wash over her. What in Oblivion was she doing here? Why was she even attempting to do this? What was she trying to prove? Who cares if the Jarl's axe had been stolen? She certainly didn't and the gold wasn't worth her life.

"Who's there!" one of them said as they stood up.

Magoza felt her heart miss a few beats. Then, without thinking, she burst into the stone room, hands ready.

"What've we got here!" the second said as they both drew their swords.

Magoza glared at both of them, the flames of a fire spell, primed in her hands, ready to incinerate those that stood before her.

"Gonna throw some fire at us? the first said.

"We'll just step out of the way!" the second mocked. "Then we'll gut you!"

Magoza squeezed the fire in her hands, as she built up the power of the flames. She released control and large bolts of fire lunged free of her hands. One of them striking the first in the face, while the other bolt hit the second in the chest. The first clutched his burn as he let out a horrifying yell. Magoza froze in horror as he fell to his knees in agony. The other lunged forward, bringing her out of her trance. She stepped quickly out of the way before throwing more flames out of the palms of her hands. He swung his sword wildly as he set ablaze, shouting curses at her, while his friend continued to whimper. She didn't stop until her magicka fizzled out, her attack forcibly ceased.

The man looked at her and smiled. "Outta fire?" he asked, his armour black and scorched. A third bandit ran into the room weapon drawn, but not just any weapon. An axe, with any luck, the Jarl's axe.

"What's going on!" he demanded before he looked over at her. "Another kill for us, eh?" He looked down at the axe he held. "Looking for this I bet?"

Before they could respond, she ran at him and tried to grab the axe off of him. He pushed her to the ground, readying himself to fight. She decided the best course of action now was to flee. She ran out of the small room and around the corridor, back into the sunlight. She descended the stairs as fast as she could without falling. Even as she ran, she could feel her magicka power returning, growing stronger. Soon she would be able to once again go on the offensive and put them down for good.

She heard footsteps behind her. She spun around as she reached the base of the stairs and with all she could muster she placed a fire rune at the feet of the bandits who were half way down. It exploded as their feet touched it, sending all three of them crashing head over heals on the hard stone steps. The cracks of their bones as they fell made her squirm uncomfortably. Not because she found it sickening, but because her inner Orsimer found it gratifying. As they fell the axe flew out of the bandits hand, clattering next to their tumbling limp bodies. Finally, they both came to a mangled end at the base of the long steps.

Magoza looked down at their pulverized bodies for a moment, before climbing up several steps to grab the axe that had come to a rest. She briefly inspected it for marks and was pleased that it had taken only the most superfluous of damage.

She sighed deeply in relief as she felt her limbs begin to shake. She sat down on the wooden steps as her legs turned to jelly. She had not only almost died again, but she had taken lives. She had not thought this through. She had not considered the outcome of her escapade. This was the last time that she would place herself into such unnecessary danger. She took one last look at the bandit who had wielded the axe. He certainly wouldn't bother anyone else ever again. Perhaps this would be a lesson to other bandits that came this way.

Who was she kidding, bandits never learned anything. She looked at the axe then at the body. Perhaps she would need evidence of her kill. With her stomach rolling at the thought, she rose the axe above her head.

* * *

Magoza threw open the large door and stepped into Dragonsreach and begun to walk up the steps that lead from the doors to a large area with long tables that lay either side of a large fire pit which lay in the centre. As she got to the top of the stairs she was greeted by a rather angry looking female Dunmer.

"Why have you burst in here holding a decapitated head!?" the Dark Elf demanded of her.

"It's the head of the bandit chief." Magoza informed her lifting it up, feeling a little sick at the sight of what she held in her hand. "I've got the Jarl's axe right here." She unsheathed the axe with her free hand, and held it out to her.

"You better follow me." she said as she turned and began to head up towards the Jarl, who was sat on his throne, a man, who was clearly starting to bald, stood to his right. Clearly someone else of importance here in the city.

They both walked up to him, who looked at Magoza before addressing the Dunmer. "Who's this?" he asked her. "And why has she brought a stinking head into my palace?"

"She has your axe."

"That doesn't explain why she's got a head in her hand."

Magoza cleared her throat. "I wasn't sure how you dealt with this sort of thing. I thought you might want it." She realized that not only had removing the head made her feel sick, but it hadn't even been necessary. Making the whole ordeal so much worse.

"What would I want the head for?" he asked. "Never mind, just pass the axe to my steward."

The man who was stood to the Jarl's right stepped forward and Magoza passed him the axe.

"What do you want me to do with the head?" Magoza asked.

"Get it out of my palace and out of my city." he responded before adding to his steward. "And pay her."

The steward nodded and walked off into another room. A few moments later he returned, giving Magoza the three-hundred gold in two coin purses. She quickly placed them into her satchel that lay around her waist.

As she turned to leave, a very tall woman covered completely in steel-plate armour walked up to them. Magoza briefly wondered what race she was as her attire completely obscured every part of her body. The Dunmer bodyguard gripped her sword handle in anticipation of an attack.

"I hear you have a bounty for returning your axe? I am here for the details." the woman said.

"I'm sorry." the steward said to her. "The bounty has been claimed." he said to her.

"It has?" she asked with disappointment clearly audible in her voice.

"Yes, this young orc just claimed it."

The tall woman who easily towered over everyone in the room looked down at her. "Her?" she asked incredulously. "How old are you?" she asked.

Magoza cleared her throat once more, puffing out her chest to make herself look bigger. "Old enough to deal with some no good thieves."

"Where are your weapons?" the tall woman asked. "Or did you throw rocks?"

"I threw magic." she told them bluntly. "I dealt with them with magic."

The Jarl leaned back in his throne "I did wonder about that. Well as long as you don't misuse it in my city, I have no problem with it." He looked down at the head she was still carrying, a sick look washing over his face. "Preventus, take that head off her and throw it off the balcony, I'm fed up of looking at it."

The steward unwillingly took it and disappeared up some stairs that lay to the Jarl's left.

"Now if you two don't mind, leave us." the Jarl ordered.

Magoza turned and headed out of the palace, followed closely by the tall armoured women.

Outside Magoza stopped, she leaned against a wooden support and stared down at the city beneath. She let out a sigh.

"You must be fairly good with magic to be able to take out a group of bandits without being cut up."

Magoza looked around to see that the steel plated woman was stood behind her. "I made a mess of it and was nearly killed. Good luck is what saved me."

"Luck does not save anyone. Skill is what can save one from imminent demise, even if they do not know they posses it."

Magoza stared at her for a moment. "What race are you?" she asked her.

The woman turned, her gaze seemed to stare down across the city. "Does it really matter that much?" she responded.

"Well I only asked because I don't think you're a Nord."

"Take a guess."

Magoza looked her up and down. "A really tall Imperial?" she asked. "You talk like I imagine they sound like."

"If that is how you wish to see me, then yes I'm an Imperial."

"Where are you staying?" Magoza asked her.

"Right now I'm staying at the inn."

Magoza looked down into the city. The Bannered Mare inn was visible in the lowest district in the city. "I've been in there twice. I didn't see you."

"I'm renting a room upstairs. Apparently they usually only rent it out for a single day, but I'm renting it full time for now."

Magoza turned her gaze to the Companions' Mead Hall. "Why don't you join the Companions?" she asked her.

If it was possible to hear a smile she heard it now. "I have, another destiny it would seem."

"Another destiny?" Magoza asked. "You weren't horribly disfigured were you? Is that why you wear that armour?"

"Maybe I am disfigured." She responded, sadness filled her words. "I must go now, nice to meet you, my name is Tam by the way."

And with that she left. Heading down the stairs into the city beneath. "I'm Magoza, and it was nice to meet you too." Magoza shouted after her. She glanced back at Dragonsreach before she too descended the steps.


	9. An Unexpected Turn

Valerie stepped through the front door and was greeted by Magoza who was sat by the warm fire. It looked as though she had been there for quite sometime. There was also something different about her, she seemed more at ease, happier.

"Good evening." Magoza said happily.

Valerie smiled back. "Evening, you seem happy."

"I want to repay you for your kindness." the orc said as she quickly reached into her satchel.

"You do?" the Nord responded welcoming any aid that could be give, but unsure what form that aid could possibly be in, given the relative small size of the satchel.

"Yes." Magoza said as she pulled out the two coin purses, brimming with gold septims.

Valerie stared in disbelief. Her mind began to race, conjuring up the worst scenarios of how had she acquired such a sum of money and so quickly. Had she robbed someone? _Killed _someone? After all she knew next to nothing about her. "Where did you get this!?" she demanded angrily.

The young orc looked shocked at the response she had received. "I got the Jarl his axe back." she explained.

Valerie felt uneasy. She took a deep breath, calming herself down slightly. She hadn't robbed anyone after all, that was good. However the axe hadn't simply been misplaced. "From what I heard, his axe was taken by bandits?" Valerie said knowing what it meant. She tried to keep her voice calm, but failed. "You went after them?" she questioned, her voice raised. "Alone!?" she almost screeched.

"I thought it would be easy gold." she tried to explain.

"Did you go on your own?" Valerie asked again.

"Yes."

"Against a gang of murderers, rapists and thieves!?" Valerie bawled.

Magoza went quiet and stared at her feet. Her face having turned from one of joy, to one of sorrow and regret. "I was hoping to be able to sneak in and grab the axe without being seen, it didn't quite go that way, but I still got out safe."

Valerie took in another deep breath. It would do no good to snap at her. "Remember this. No amount of gold is worth your life." she told her. Valerie couldn't bear the thought of anything bad happening to her.

"I thought it would help."

"It will, but I don't want to see you hurt."

her friend smiled up at her. "There aren't very many people that care about my safety."

"It's because you're a good person." The Nord smiled wistfully. "Look, I didn't mean to be nasty. Thank you for this gift of gold."

Magoza didn't respond. She simply stood up. "I'm very tired. Do you mind if I go get some rest?"

Valerie nodded slowly. "Of course I don't mind. You've had a busy day. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"And thank you."

As Magoza disappeared up the stairs, Valerie looked into the fire. She held her stomach as she remembered the day she had been impaled by an Aldmeri sword. It wasn't even a real sword, it was one that had been conjured by the elf.

The injury had marked the last time she would see her husband. What had happened to him she didn't know. She didn't want to know. Maybe he feared that she would be unable to bear children and ran away, left her to be alone. From what she had been told by the healers, there was a good chance she couldn't. Her time on this world was constantly on the decrease and she wanted to feel friendship again. She wanted to feel that bond she saw parents have with their children. She wanted so much, yet always feared she would end up with nothing.

Valerie headed to the back of the house and walked up the stairs. She made her way into her room, where she went over to her wardrobe and opened it. She stared at the old damaged Imperial armour that hung inside. She reached in and pulled it out, laying it flat on her bed. Joining the Legion had ended their love. He was gone, leaving her eternally alone.

She missed the days before they had joined the army, when she and Rontag walked the breadth of Skyrim. They had seen so much, smelled so much, heard so much, _felt _so much. They had both been so alive back then. She had felt so powerful, deciding the fates of others. A clash of her sword to end the life of a wayward Bandit or thief. But all that had ended long ago. Now she had nothing to live for, except now a young woman in need had entered her life and she knew she needed to help her.

Valerie picked the armour up and placed it back in the wardrobe not wanting to remember old memories. They were painful and did her no good. Suddenly she no longer wished to be here, she no longer wished to be stuck in this city for a moment longer. If she continued on with her current life, she would end up with no home, she simply could no longer afford it.

She walked over to the small window and peered down into the street. It was just like every other night. The streets were almost empty with only one or two people moving about. Then she saw something in the darkness. She saw a group of people walking in the dimming light. Unmistakable in their armour and posture, they were Imperial soldiers. Except they weren't alone. Behind them were elves dressed in their brass coloured elven armour, lead by a man in a distinct, unforgettable robe. "Thalmor!" she said in an angered whisper. "Here in the city!" She ground her teeth. "In Skyrim!?"

Valerie began to pace, becoming angrier and angrier with each step. Why were they here? Why were Imperial soldiers with them? And why were they helping those monsters?

She tried to block it out of her mind. It was non of her business as to why they were here. She laid down on her bed and stared up at the dark ceiling. Had she seen Thalmor or had it been just her imagination?

If they were then she needed to do something. Nothing good could come from their presence here. Were they here to root out Talos worship? Were they there to destroy the shrine of Talos that lay here in the city?

No longer able to just lay there idly while such vile creatures wandered through the streets of her city. Valerie rose hastily from her bed and flung open the wardrobe with such force that one of the old doors shattered as it struck the wall. She pulled out her Imperial armour once again and for the first time in years, she adorned it. A proud soldier of the Imperial Legion, protecting one of it's cities against the enemy.

* * *

Tam took off her helmet and placed it on the side. It was difficult to keep herself hidden at all times, yet it was necessary in case anyone discovered who she was. She even ate all her meals up here in the rented room. Yet she knew that she could not afford it for long unless she could get work. That Orsimer had severely jeopardized getting that work, taking the bounty when it should have been hers. Yet somehow she could not blame it on the young thing. She had seemed a pleasant young woman from what she had observed.

She pulled off the plate armour and laid down on the soft bed and stretched in the light clothes that she wore beneath. While the armour was good at protecting her from any incoming enemy blows, it wasn't the best choice when it came to wearing it for extended periods. It had spots that chaffed and areas that cut into the skin if not put on exactly right.

The tavern owners, Barnabas and his daughter Hulda, were good about keeping her privacy and not entering while she was there. She couldn't imagine what it would have been like if they hadn't. Her safety could have been compromised and she would have had to have moved on once again, in fearing that the rumors of her presence would reach those that searched for her. Her predicament was soul destroying, yet she could do nothing to change it. They were after her and she had to keep her head down.

She closed her eyes, ready to go to sleep when she heard the inn owner, Barnabas yelling. "You cannot just barge in here with, with _them_!"

Tam's eyes shot open and in a moment she was crawling out of bed. She made her way over to the balcony that overlooked the tavern, on her hands and knees. She stared down to see Imperial soldiers standing there along with her pursuers. Two Thalmor troops and a single wizard or perhaps a judiciary.

"They've found me!" she whispered in a frantic tone. She quickly crawled back to where she had placed her armor.

"You will let the Thalmor search your premises or you shall be in a lot of trouble." a voice said in a Cyrodilic accent.

"Is the Empire taking orders from the elves now?" Barnabas accused.

Tam began to put on the armour slowly, making sure that she did it correctly.

"There may be a dangerous woman in this building, an Altmer, someone who wants to destroy both of our empires." the Judiciary wizard lied. "We simply want to make sure that she is dealt with. You are in danger with her here."

"What?" Barnabas asked clearly afraid and confused. "Someone who sold out the Empire, here!?"

Tam finished putting on her armour and picked up her warhammer carefully before making her way out of the room. She hoped that she could sneak into the kitchen and out the back way without being seen. Unfortunately sneaking wasn't her strong suit.

As she stepped into the kitchen area one of the Imperials shouted her way. "Hey you, stop right there!"

She froze and did not dare to move. There were too many innocent people in the inn that could be hurt or killed in an altercation. She knew the Thalmor did not care if anyone got in the way of their target, but she did.

The Thalmor wizard stepped forward. "Turn around and come over here slowly. Drop your weapon before you do that."

She dropped her warhammer, it landed heavily on the ground with a heavy metallic thud. She made her way, slowly, to the centre of the room, coming to a halt next to the fire. The Thalmor walked up to her, weapons drawn. The wizard stared at her. "Full body armour." he mused. "Very clever. they'd never suspect who you were, or what you were. Of course we have known of your getup for quite a while."

That's when the door to the inn swung open with a loud bang. A Nord woman wearing light Imperial armour, carrying an Imperial sword and shield stormed in. She looked over at the Thalmor and then over at Barnabas. "What's going on!?" she demanded of him.

He looked at her. He seemed shocked by her presence. "Valerie, what are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?"

"Why are they here!" the woman Barnabas had called Valerie demanded, as she pointed her sword threateningly towards the Thalmor soldiers

"They're looking for someone." he told her.

The wizard looked at the newcomer to the situation. "I suggest you go back the way you came!" he ordered. "This does not concern you."

"I'm not going anywhere till you tell me what's going on! You can't come here and force your demands on us! We'll worship Talos all we want and _you_ cannot stop us!"

The wizard smiled a cruel smile. "Talos you say?" he looked over at the Imperials. "Looks like we have an arrest on our hands for illegal worship."

The Imperial soldiers looked at each other not sure what to do.

"Arrest her!" the wizard ordered.

The Legion soldiers reluctantly drew their swords. "Sorry ma'am."

One of the Nords who had been sat enjoying a drink rose from his seat. "You can't arrest someone for that!"

Valerie sighed just gave up. She threw her sword and shield on the ground. "I'm tired." she said simply as if all the fight that had been in her moments ago had simply evaporated. She looked over at the over eager Nord. "Don't bother." She told him.

"I'll bother!" he shouted drawing his sword, ready for combat.

"No you won't!" Valerie shouted back. "Stand down, it's not worth it!"

The Nord went to lunge, but others grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back into his seat. All without a single word being uttered. The man nodded at Valerie before he threw his own sword on the ground.

Valerie looked over at Barnabas. "Make sure Magoza, the orc that is staying with me knows what happened."

"I will." he said solemnly.

The Thalmor wizard turned his attention back to Tam. His face cruel with enjoyment over what had just occurred. "Now you, take off your helmet."

Tam could not believe how this had gone down. She had inadvertently just destroyed a woman's life. No doubt that the Thalmor agents would have her executed for blasphemy, or perhaps they had something far crueller in mind.

"Take off your helmet!" the wizard said again in a raised voice. Tam reached up and pulled off her helmet. She heard people in the inn gasp as they saw the yellow tint to her skin, her bright yellow eyes. They would have seen her pointed ears too, if it wasn't for her long shoulder length hair.

"You're an elf!" she heard Barnabas exclaim. "But not just any elf, you're that traitor they're looking for!"

The wizard smiled once again. "Taemwyn Orthar." he said. "You have been quite the nuisance."

"Yes I have. Let that woman go and I'll come peacefully."

He shook his head. "She's a heretic. No doubt multiple people here are, but it's early days yet and she'll make a good example for these people. Worshipping false idols is a crime against the true Divines."

Valerie spat at him. "I can worship whomever I want. You cannot stop me!"

"Yes we can." he said. "Take Orthar into custody."

She did not fight it. She did not complain. She simply obeyed. She had been on the run for a little over five years, since the Thalmor had actively started hunting those like her. Long before her existence of running and hiding she had actually been a Thalmor soldier in the Summerset Isle. After witnessing in absolute disgust the 'purges' of those that were deemed impure, she decided to leave, eventually joining the Imperial Legion and then much later finding herself honoured to become amongst the ranks of the Blades.

She had helped to organize and coordinate the agents that were sent to infiltrate the Thalmor before the Great War. Then when the Concordat was signed she found herself on the run from them. How the Legion had gotten involved in her search she didn't know.

Tam turned to the Imperial soldiers. "Why are you helping them track down ex-Blades?"

They didn't respond. Instead the wizard did. "You gave us the locations of all the Blades within the Isle, and you also gave the Blades information on us." he lied, a smug expression on his face.

This was news to her, and a clear lie. She had never helped the Thalmor, not since she had left the Isle behind her. Why would they say this? Why would anyone in the Empire even believe them?

"I have _never _sold out to anyone. I am sworn to protect the Empire!"

"You sold us both out to the Argonian State."the wizard claimed.

It was a lie of course, what would the Argonians gain by doing this? It didn't make sense, well not without more information as to what purpose it would serve. Unfortunately they had managed to convince the right people with a well thought out fairy tale and the Legion had helped them track her to here.

"Take them away!" the wizard shouted gleefully.

Both her and Valerie were taken out of the inn in binds. Tam was glad it was night-time She couldn't bear the thought of being so shamefully escorted through the streets in daylight with witnesses. After a few minutes they were finally out of the city, awaiting them was a carriage.

The wizard smiled at them as they both climbed into the back. "We have your so called Emperor in our pocket. And you're headed for the block. Both of you."

As the wizard walked up to the front of the carriage with the Imperial soldiers, all three of them were struck down by a fiery explosion.

* * *

Magoza had seen the Altmer and Valerie, being taken out of the Bannered Mare inn in binds. She hadn't known what was going on, but she knew that she had to save them. The tall Altmer was clearly Tam, who she had spoken with outside of Dragonsreach, only earlier that day. She had followed them, hiding in the shadows as they left the city. She followed silently, A shadow that they did not hear nor see.

As Valerie and Tam climbed into the back of a horse drawn Carriage, she saw her chance and put both her hands together and with all her will she formed the biggest fireball she could muster. She released control of her spell and the ball of fire, centred on the robed elf, flew from her palms. It struck him down with a fiery explosion, knocking over the two Imperial soldiers that were with him.

The two elven soldiers, who were in the act of climbing into the back of the carriage with Valerie and Tam, jumped straight back off, weapons drawn.

She did not hesitate as she threw another fireball at one then the other. They set ablaze, but kept on coming. She then threw ice at them. The cold of the ice, mixed with the heat of the fire cracked their armour and that was enough to slow them down. Both Valerie and Tam jumped off the back of the wagon, shoulder barging into them, knocking them down to the ground. Tam awkwardly picked up one of their swords that had been dropped with her bound hands and quickly cut Valerie's binds. Valerie took the sword and hesitated. Both of the elves began to get up. She turned and stabbed the closest one through the chest before stabbing the other through the neck. She then with one quick swoop cut Tam's binds, freeing her.

The Thalmor wizard clambered to his feet, awkwardly. He had survived the blast, yet instead of continuing to fight he ran off into the night. The two Imperial soldiers crawled away from the carriage as a group of Whiterun guards came running, weapons drawn.

Magoza sprayed the floor with a wall of fire that blocked their advancement. Valerie jumped into the driver's seat of the wagon, while Tam and Magoza jumped into the back. With a crack of the whip they were off, fleeing for their lives as arrows flew passed their heads. Some arrows stuck into the wood of the wagon, which caused the horses to screech in terror. But they only ran faster.

Instead of taking the road, Valerie veered the wagon off road, onto the grassy tundra, the wagon bounced as it rolled over nasty rocks and bumps on the rough terrain. Magoza and Tam held on for dear life in fear of being flung out, as they were tossed around violently.

It wasn't how any of them thought the day would end, but it had. They were all fugitives now and things would no doubt be a lot harder for them from now on.


	10. Elinhir

They were far from the desert heat now, the cold wind of winter permeated the air around the four travelers. The horses had done well, almost needing to keep moving onward if only to maintain their body heat. They were bred for desert life and Rontag knew they would not do well, when they finally reached the harsh cold of Skyrim.

They had just arrived at Elinhir, a small city that looked quite inviting to the weary travellers The sun was now high in the sky and they planned on resting for the rest of the day and not set off again until the morning.

They unhooked the horses from the wagon and hitched them to a post at the stables in front of some water troughs and gave them some food. Afterwards they headed into the city into the inn, where they were greeted by the smell of hot food and a middle aged man, who stood behind the counter.

"You look like a motley bunch." he said.

Rontag glared at the man, not knowing that it wasn't meant as an insult. "Excuse me?"

The innkeeper quickly explained. "I meant that you're a mixed bunch that don't look like they'd be traveling together."

"Yeah, okay." he said excepting the explanation as he and the others sat down on the stools in front of the counter.

The innkeeper leaned forward onto the counter. "So what will you have?"

Rontag sniffed the air, smelling the cooked food. "What is that I smell?" He asked.

"The wife has a big pot. It's constantly on heat in the other room in the winter months. The weather comes in harsh from Skyrim this time of year. You can have some of the stew if you'd like, six coins each."

The Nord looked at the others who all agreed. "We'll have four bowls of that stew then." he ordered.

The innkeeper shouted. "We've got folk in here who want four bowls of your stew, dear."

"All right." a voice echoed from the other room. "It'll be through in a moment."

A moment later a middle aged Redguard woman walked through with two bowls of stew. She placed them down, before she headed back into the other room to retrieve two more bowls. With all four bowls in front of the four travellers, they began to eat with spoons in hand.

The innkeepers wife stood next to them. "So how is it?" she asked.

Doran turned his head to look at her. "It's very nice."

"Good." She said sternly, before she returned to the back room.

After finishing their stew, Kalon and Jalia headed off to the general store to restock some of their used up supplies, while Doran and Rontag moved to a table near the door. It had been a a few days since just two of them had been able to talk.

"So." Rontag began.

"So, what?" Doran asked.

"What do you think about the two love birds?"

"Well, Kalon is an eager if a little naïve, and the girl is far too impatient for her own good."

"She wants adventure." Rontag said.

"She doesn't know what she wants. She wants excitement, but I fear that if she found it, it would be unsettling for her."

"I like them." the Nord admitted. "They seem like really nice people."

"Jalia doesn't like us." Doran observed.

"I'm not sure she really likes Kalon that much either, but she tries." Rontag glanced around the room. "I wonder what brought them together?"

Doran shrugged. "She loves him, you can see it in her eyes when she looks at him." he peered out of the small window that lay next to him. The sun shone brightly down into the street as numerous folk went about their daily business. He turned back to Rontag. "I think that he frustrates her, she wants the adventurous type, but she also wants him for who he is."

"Sounds stupid to me."

"Maybe so." Doran said as he regarded his friend with concern. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine."

"We're getting close to Skyrim now, having any second thoughts?"

"Of course not." the Nord responded defensively.

"All right, good."

The two sat, unspeaking, for several moments before Doran continued. "How do you think she'll react?"

"Valerie?" Rontag asked, knowing full well that's who his friend meant. "I think she'll take it badly."

"Because you continued fighting in Hammerfell, without telling her anything?"

"That and I didn't bring her along." Rontag shook his head uncomfortably. "Why are we talking about this again?"

"Because you need to be ready."

"Ready for what?" Rontag asked him angrily. "ready for rejection?" He rose up from his seat. "I was more afraid to return home to her after we failed to defeat the enemy, then to carry on fighting them with the risk of death, at every moment of every day. We failed them all Doran, us soldiers, us warriors. We failed everyone and now we have little hope for the future."

"Hammerfell has hope. We drove them out."

Rontag sneered. "But what was accomplished?"

"We kept Hammerfell whole, perhaps Skyrim could become independent also, and join us in defending against our enemies."

Rontag vehemently shook his head. "It would be a mistake for Skyrim to become independent."

"But our nation is free!" Doran cheered.

"Is it? The south is in ruin, and the Empire has lost a great nation. I bet the Dominion are laughing behind our backs. We didn't win anything. By the very fact that Hammerfell is no longer part of the Empire means that they _won_!"

"I don't see how."

"Divide and conquer. It's an old way of war."

"So you're saying that it was a mistake for us to keep fighting?" Doran asked him.

"I don't know." he replied in defeat. "I'm going for some air."

Rontag left the inn, leaving Doran sat alone, confused about what had just taken place. Had they made a mistake? In the future when the inevitable war once again broke out between the Empire and the Dominion, would Hammerfell remain out of it. Would they wait until the Empire had been defeated, wait until the elves had gathered enough strength to take his land without hope of retaliation? Without hope of defeating them? It made him sick to think that this is what the Dominion had wanted. A divided Empire was easier to conquer after all.

Rontag walked down the long street, watching the people go about their daily business. Unlike the cities to the south, Elinhir had seen very little war. Guards patrolled the streets in plentiful numbers and the people seemed much happier in general.

He soon came across Kalon and Jalia, who were carrying freshly purchased fur coats. Jalia looked happy, while Kalon looked annoyed.

"How are things going with you two?" Rontag asked them.

Kalon held the coat out in front of him to show Rontag. "Is this the type of thing Nords wear in Skyrim?"

"Not really." Rontag said. "But we're built for the cold so we can stand the bitter weather a lot better than others. Not to say we don't complain mind you."

Kalon glared at Jalia. "We spent all that coin on these coats and nobody in Skyrim even wears them."

"They look nice." Jalia defended. "Besides he said that Nords are built for the cold. Last time I checked we're Redguards and we're certainly not used to snow and ice."

"They'll look good on you." Rontag told them. "Make you look very rob-able for the brigands." he joked, trying to get a reaction out of the bard. He certainly got it.

"See!" Kalon cried out. "Not only were they expensive, but they'll attract all sorts of scum who'll want to take advantage of us!" He threw his free hand into the air. "They'll Rob us!" he wailed. "Maybe even kill us!"

Jalia laughed aloud. "You complain far too much Kalon. If you don't like it, take yours back. I'm sure thought that the Shopkeeper won't give you back what you paid for it."

"You are such a burden on me woman!" Kalon said angrily. "I'll keep the coat, but If anything happens I'll blame you!"

"Fine, just stop complaining all of the time." she retorted.

"I don't complain all of the time!" Kalon declared.

"Really, you could have fooled me."

"You don't even want to go to Skyrim. Perhaps you should have stayed back in Rihad!"

"I was only in Rihad because you wanted to return there once the war had finished!" Jalia scolded. She let out a long sigh. "Look." she said in a much more calm composed tone. "Let's not fight about this."

"You started it!" Kalon accused.

"Me!" she asked in amazement. "You're the one who complained about the coat."

"Because we don't need them."

"It's cold in Skyrim."

"Fine." Kalon said no longer caring. "Let's not fight about this."

"I agree." she said echoing her earlier sentiment. "This is an adventure, let's enjoy it."

Rontag smiled inwardly as he continued on down the street. He was glad that he'd had the chance to meet them. He knew he would miss them when he finally arrived back at Whiterun and they headed off to Solitude. Perhaps he would ask them to return to Whiterun once he had graduated from the Bards College. Of course there still was the issue with his wife. They both had deep emotional wounds that would need healing. He pushed the terrible thought to the back of his mind. He would deal with it when he finally got home. Thinking about it now would only make his blood run high and make his body ill with worry and regret.

As darkness fell across the land, he and the others returned to the inn where they purchased rooms for the night. They slept soundly, all except Rontag who could not get the fear of reuniting with his wife out of his mind.

In the morning they convinced the stable master to swap their horses for some that were more suited for the cold than the desert breeds. While they were not the hardy horses of Skyrim, they would at least fair much better in the lower warmer areas of Whiterun Hold. With the new horses hooked up, they continued their journey into the land of the Nords. As the border came ever closer, Rontag could feel his nerves begin to catch up with him.

* * *

As soon as they crossed the border, Rontag felt it. It wasn't so much a physical feeling as a feeling in his soul. He was here, in the land of his forefathers. In the land of the first empire. In the nation where Talos had learned to use his voice on the Throat of the World.

Long ago, his ancestors had arrived here, the first humans to set foot on Tamriel's shores. They had met the Snow Elves and while they had not become friends, they were tolerant of each other. That ended when the Snow Elves had attacked the city of Saarthal. They killed indiscriminately, women, children all kinds of non combatants. It had not mattered to them, all they wanted was blood. They had made the mistake of allowing a great warrior to escape. That warrior was Ysgramor, and he brought back with him five hundred companions that wiped the Snow Elves from Skyrim. Ysgramor was a hero of his people. Some say the first hero, the first true warrior that preceded all others.

With the stand-off of the Empire and the Dominion, the land now had a dark cloud over it. While not a physical one, it still was there. He felt it, just by looking at the trees, the foxes, the rabbits, the birds and the sky. Something dark was coming, he could feel it in his bones. His spirit felt heavy as he knew this place, his very home was under the rule of the White Gold Concordat.

Amongst other deeds that greatly favoured the Dominion, was that of the banning of Talos worship. While the great Talos, or Tiber Septim as he was known when he had been mortal and emperor, wasn't such a revered idol in other lands. He was still known as the ninth of the great Divines. Folks in hammerfell still had the shrines of Talos in their temples, still had them among the Nine. But what of here, what of this place? Of the Nords he had known before the war, he could think of none that would willingly give up their worship. he could think of none that would answer to any rule, no matter how enforceable, that involved stripping away something so sacred as the Ninth. Of those people, he knew his wife would be with them. Worshiping the shrine in Whiterun, never giving in to any command to do otherwise.

As they approached Falkreath, Rontag's mind wandered to thoughts of his wife, to thoughts of his life before. He so much wanted it to be as it was. But in his heart he knew it could never be that again.


	11. Fugitives

The day had come and gone for the three fugitives. Valerie, Magoza and Tam all sat around a camp fire they had made in the jagged rocky hills several miles north of the border from Whiterun hold, within the hold known as the Pale. They had ditched the horse and cart several miles south, letting the horse go free, continuing on foot until their legs ached and they could walk no longer. They had gathered the sticks they had needed to make the fire, all without saying a single word to one another.

Tam was the first to break the uneasy silence. "Thank you for helping me." she said to Magoza.

Magoza looked up at her before looking over Valerie. There was several moments silence before she responded. "I was saving her." the orc said. "I didn't want them to take her away."

Tam looked down at the dirt feeling foolish. How could she have thought that she was rescuing her? They had only met the other day and then had a brief interaction. "I see." she said, her voice full of sorrow. She felt overwhelming guilt for how she had dragged the two into her world of hide and seek.

Valerie looked over at her. "So why were they after you?" Her words were full of anger, distrust.

"I was a Blade, they want to destroy the Blades. As to how they convinced the Legion that I was a traitor, I have no clue." She brushed some dirt with a stick that she held in her hand.

"You're an elf!" Valerie spat. "You're all traitors!"

Tam gritted her teeth. "I was loyal to the Blades, to the Empire. I came here looking for an escape from the Thalmor's relentless pursuit."

"If you hadn't come to Whiterun and caused this mess, then I'd still be there right now!" Valerie accused angrily. "How can you ruin peoples lives like this!"

"I'm sorry." Tam apologized sincerely. "It wasn't my intention to involve anyone else. It hadn't happened before, so I didn't think it would ever happen." The Altmer looked up and tried to make eye contact with Valerie, but failed. "I truly am sorry." She said looking back down at the dirt.

"Sorry is not going to make up for it, not by any means."

Tam prodded the dirt hard with the stick until it snapped.

"My life was a wreck before," Valerie continued. "You've made sure that it turned out a complete disaster."

Tam gritted her teeth. She was starting to feel ire build up inside her. If the idiotic Nord hadn't come in to the inn with sword drawn clearly looking to shed some blood, then she would indeed still be safe at home in Whiterun. Blaming it all on her wasn't fair, the Nord clearly wanted someone to blame that wasn't herself. An Altmer was a perfect target for that blame.

Valerie continued her verbal onslaught "Oh, I bet just the thought of Talos, a human, up there as one of the divines just tears up that overblown elven ego of yours."

"Perhaps once." she argued. "But that was a very long time ago. I vowed to do what I thought was right and I became a Blade." She poked at the fire with the top half of the stick she had snapped earlier.

Valerie wasn't convince. "Really."

"I have been running from them for years now. I have no idea where my fellow blades even are, I am totally alone and every hour of every day I fear that I will take my last breath at any moment."

Valerie didn't respond. Instead she began poking holes in the cold dirt with her finger.

"They are relentless," Tam continued. "And I thought that Whiterun, the home of the Companions would be safe from them. They are truly despised here in this land. But they somehow got help from the Legion and I fear that they will eventually have a much greater hold in Skyrim, as they do currently in Cyrodiil."

Magoza looked at her, wonder in her eyes. "Earlier, when I saw you, you said you were an Imperial?"

"You made that up in your head." Tam told her. "You asked me if that is what I was and I told you. If that was what you wanted to believe, then yes. I try not to give my presence away to anyone."

"Hang on!" Valerie asked in confusion about what was just said. "You two know each other?"

Magoza shrugged. "Not really, we met in Whiterun and only talked for a brief moment."

Valerie returned to poking the dirt. "Okay then." she replied.

"So," Tam said beginning a question, "Your name is Valerie?" she asked.

"Valerie Iron-Axe. Proud wife of a lost Nord warrior."

"Lost?" Tam asked her.

"I'm not getting into it." she said trying to avoid talking about it, despite the fact that she was the one who had just brought him up. "So, what's your name elf?"

"Tam."

"That's not what that wizard called you."

"All right then, my full name is Taemwyn Orthar, and I'm an Altmer that was born in the Summerset Isles. I joined the Aldmeri army as a footsoldier but left at age thirty, because the atrocities I was expected to perform to those deemed 'impure'. I was, and am magically inert, though I was saved only because of my family line and deemed pure blood. After I left that behind, I travelled the land till I settled in Cyrodiil. After many years I joined the Legion for a while. Then I became a Blade. I trained hard and I helped them with the Thalmor threat."

Valerie looked confused by something. "What do you mean you're 'magically inert'?"

"I have no magicka, at least not without drinking a potion. Even then the art of how to wield magic alludes me."

"You don't have _any _magic?" Valerie stated confused. "But you're an elf."

"I have a condition that makes me magically illiterate. I can't explain it, though it was a cause of great torment when I was growing up in Alinor."

"Others bully the one that couldn't cast spells?" the Nord asked with a hint of glee at the thought of the high elf's strife.

"Yes." Tam replied simply.

"I guess living in the heart of Thalmor prejudice is tough when you stand out."

"Now one such as me would be 'purged' as a child under the Thalmor's rule, but as I said, my family line was deemed pure and my parents were rich nobles. Besides it was still the early days back then."

"Early days?" Valerie asked. "I thought the Thalmor began their rise a hundred and eighty years ago after the Oblivion crisis? How old are you?"

"I'm pure-blood. I was born a year before the Thalmor gained popularity by closing the Oblivion gates, one hundred and eighty one years ago."

"So that makes you one hundred and eighty two?"

"Yes."

"How long do your people live?" the Nord questioned disbelieving.

"It depends on various factors. My lack of any magical ability will probably shorten my life."

"Shorten." Valerie repeated incredulously. "Well maybe we should talk about that later."

Tam nodded, feeling slightly more at ease with the woman. "If that is what your wish."

"We'll need to see if there's anything we can eat nearby." Valerie said as she looked around at several forms of deer and elk roaming the tundra in the distance. "If only we had a bow, we could snatch us one of those."

Magoza stood up. "Why don't I blast one with a fireball?"

Valerie wasn't sure she liked the idea. "Can you kill it? I don't want them all running off scared, because then we'd have nothing."

"Don't worry, they don't look that tough." Magoza crouched and began to descend towards the closest elk, which was grazing about a thousand feet away.

Tam turned to Valerie. "So what happens if she doesn't kill it and they all run off?"

"We pick and eat snowberries." she responded annoyed.

"Doesn't sound very filling." Tam said.

"It wouldn't be. You could always go running around, waving our arms in the air."

"Why would I want to do that?" Tam asked confused by the odd statement.

"You'd definitely attract a sabre cat. It'd run right at you."

"I don't like the idea of fighting one of those, not when my warhammer is back in Whiterun."

"Well, while it's chomping on your bones, I could strike it from behind."

Tam didn't respond. It was clear that she wasn't liked by the Nord. Instead of confronting her on it, she turned and watched Magoza as she threw some fireballs at the elk. It bolted, as the flames struck, it's fur ignited ablaze and it let out a squawk. A few more strikes and it fell, limp onto the tundra, the other animals in the area fled, leaving them with their catch.

Valerie and Tam rose from their positions around the fire and headed down to where the animal had fallen. All three of them lifted it up off of the tundra, Tam at the front legs, Valerie and Magoza at the back. They carried it up the hill back to their fire.

They rolled it onto its side and Valerie used the elven sword she had taken from their would be captors and sliced it down its stomach, opening up its flesh. The smell was vile, yet she continued as it was necessary to prepare it for consumption. After the animal was prepared, Valerie cut slabs of meat which they poked onto the ends of long thick sticks that they then held over the fire. After the meat was cooked through, the three of them ate.

After her final mouthful, Valerie couldn't help but chuckle to herself. This was the best that she had eaten in a very long time and all it took was for her to become a fugitive from the Empire and the Thalmor.

"So." Tam began. "Where do we go from here?"

Valerie looked across at Magoza. "We head to Winterhold." she said knowing that the ruined city to the north was the Orc's original destination.

Magoza didn't agree. "I don't think that's a good idea now, besides what will you two do while I'm at the college?"

Valerie didn't have a definite answer, but she said the first thing that came to mind. "We'll become city guards or something."

Tam hated the idea, it was foolish and they would be found out rather quickly if anyone came looking. "What if the Thalmor show up!"

"Simple, it's Winterhold." Valerie explained.

Whatever she was trying to get across, it was lost on the Altmer. "So what if it's Winterhold?"

Valerie explained simply. "They have a deep resentment for elven kind."

"They'll really like me then." Tam said bitterly. "So why should I go there?"

"Shut up and I'll tell you!" Valerie snapped.

Tam stood up, sick and tired of the way she spoke to her at every moment. She towered over the Nord, her fists on her hips. "Excuse me!?" she questioned angrily.

Valerie followed suite and rose up, though she was far shorter than the almost eight foot elf. "Are you challenging me!" she asked, looking up at her.

"Me?" she asked. "You're the one that speaks to me like I'm something unsavoury you find in the sewer!"

"I'm the one with the sword!" Valerie warned. "You better stand down!"

"Where's the honour in threatening to kill someone who has no weapon?" Tam asked, mocking her.

Valerie threw the sword to the ground and began to attack angrily, her fists, a flurry of strikes. Tam was unable to defend herself against the unexpected, ferocious onslaught. The Nord's fists were fast, too fast for her to evade. She punched back, managing to strike Valerie on the chin. Her head snapped back, but she recovered quickly and continued relentlessly with her whirlwind like fists, that just kept coming over and over, strike after strike. Then suddenly they both found themselves laying on the floor in a cloud of dirt. Their bodies ached as if they had both been smashed in the chest by a steel shield. They looked over to see Magoza stood their with both her hands open facing at them.

"Enough!" the orc shouted angrily. "You're both are out of control. Buck up or I'm outta here and I'll leave you two to kill each other!"

Tam laid down in the dirt and began to laugh. "Wow, you knocked us both down like dolls." she said.

Valerie stood up and rested her hand on her aching gut. "What in Oblivion did you just hit us with!"

Magoza shrugged. "Not really sure. I just wanted you to stop." Magoza walked over to Tam and offered her hand. Tam took it and she helped her to her feet. "Are you going to stop?" the Orc asked.

Tam looked over at Valerie. "I have no problem with you as long as you have no problem with me."

Valerie sighed. "I'm sorry, but I simply don't feel comfortable with you." she told her truthfully. "Maybe with time I will, but I don't know you, or trust you."

Magoza stood between them. "Perhaps we need to talk then, get this tension out in the open." she looked at Tam then at Valerie. "Because the two of you need to work together if we have any hope of getting anywhere."

"I'm _trying_." Tam said in frustration.

"I know." Valerie said at the realization that it was her that had the problem. "I honestly don't like you, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I get that feeling from you." Tam said as she looked over at the fire.

"Look." Valerie began. "If we continue north, we should get to the road and arrive in Dawnstar. From there we can get to Winterhold."

Tam tried to hide her irritation at Valerie who had apparently put herself in charge. "We've been through this."

"The Imperials won't find us. We tell the Jarl that the Thalmor are after us and that the Imperials are helping them."

Tam's face screwed up. "I don't think that'll work."

"Then you don't know the history of Winterhold. They distrust magic. The Thalmor use magic so they distrust them. Not to mention the war of course."

Tam wasn't convinced. "What of the Imperials?" she asked. "They're helping them now."

"There is a resentment for the Empire growing in Skyrim. As far as I'm aware Winterhold is one of the places where that resentment is quite strong. The hold isn't respected by anyone, the city is in ruins. We won't have much issue with them, they'll just be glad that the cities population is going up instead of down."

"You talk as if you know the Jarl?" Tam asked her.

"No, but I know how much he isn't respected, and that the city's population grows constantly smaller. he'll help us, his honour will demand it."

Tam hated the whole idea and she wasn't afraid to show it. "Even if your plan works, I'm tall, even for an Altmer. I would stand out like a Dremora in a temple, I'd have to move on."

"You might be surprised." Valerie told her. "Not many people even remember the place exists, well apart from the college. Perfect for someone who's in hiding."

"We'll see." Tam said unsure of the idea. In truth she wasn't sure of anything any more.

They all fell silent as they watched the flames of the warm fire leap into the cold air. It would be a difficult journey, but non of them would give up. Not now, not ever.


	12. With Rage in His Heart

Burag stood there with rage in his heart. He would find his prey and squeeze the life out of her for what she was, for what she had caused. Right now though, he would have to settle with squeezing the life out of the Altmer that he held by the neck. He had been badly burned and Burag could smell her stench on him.

"Where is she!" he demanded.

"Let me go... And I'll... Help you find her!" the Thalmor elf wizard pleaded through gasps for air.

"You do not even know where she is?" the orc growled, spittle flying from his mouth. "You have nothing to offer for your life!"

"She fled Whiterun and..."

He was cut of mid sentence as his neck was snapped by the burly Orc. He then threw the body to the ground in disgust. The vile creature had given him nothing of value and so he had paid the price. If Whiterun is where she had been, then that is where he would find his answer. Or it was where he would find blood, blood that would make his own sing.

He walked onward, down the long road. The large city already in view in the distance. It stood proud on the hill, surrounded by thick uneven stone walls. His pace increased, he had to get there. He had to have answers to his questions. His veins burned with the blood rage, his anger uncontrolled.

An hour later, as he approached the city gates. He saw the tell tale signs of battle. The scorched dirt stunk of his prey, she had been here. He knelt down and gripped a handful of the dirt and let it slide through his fingers back to the ground. He stood back up and made his way into the city casting a glance at the guard as he analysed their weaponry and thickness of armour, concluding that they would be no match for him. In that brief glance he had found out how and where to strike in order to make short work of them if it came to combat.

He continued on, his first destination would be the city's inn, as innkeepers usually had loose tongues, even without threatening horrific violence upon them.

He stepped up to one of the guards. "Where is the inn?" he asked.

"Down at the bottom of the street." the guard informed him. "The Bannered Mare."

Without thanking him the orc headed straight there. Once inside, he stepped straight up to the bar, the man who was sat at one of the stools took one look at him and promptly moved without so much as a second glance.

"Something happened here recently." he told the female barkeeper that was stood there.

She looked at him for a moment. "Yes." she said. "Quite a story."

"I am looking for the orc involved, do you know where she is?"

"No." she responded, much to his annoyance. "She wasn't involved in here, but out by the stables she certainly caused quite the panic among the guards. She took out two of those vile elves while she was at it."

"Tell me, where has she been staying!?" he demanded fiercely.

"At the Iron-Axe residence." she said, her eyes wide, clearly taken aback by his aggression. "But there's no one there now."

"Then tell me where I might be able to find out!" he yelled angrily. If she continued to avoid telling him what he wanted to know, then she would surely feel his blade in her gut.

"If you want you could talk to the priest at the temple of Kynareth up the hill." she said hurriedly. "The orc was injured and was healed there."

Burag turned and left without asking her for directions, instead he received them from another guard outside. Before long, he was setting foot into the temple, where he approached an elderly man dressed in robes. "Where is the orc who was here!" he demanded, not hiding his disdain for the priest.

The priest looked over at him. "Excuse me?" he asked not impressed with the tone of the strangers voice.

Burag had no more patience to have disobedient, pathetic weaklings not give him what he desperately needed. "Magoza was here, where is she going!?"

"I do not know."

Burag grabbed him by the throat with is left hand and drew his sword with his right, the priests feet left the ground as the orc lifted him. "You will tell me, or your blood will paint this temple red!"

"You do not... frighten me!" the priest said through gasps for air. "This is a... temple of healing" he choked. "Your violence will not be tolerated."

"You are a fool!" the Orc growled "Now you _will_ tell me what I want to know, or you shall feel pain that you cannot even imagine."

The priest looked into his eyes. "I see it." he said through dwindling breath.

"What!?" the orc asked.

"The madness in your eyes." the priest said with a stark realization. "How long have you suffered... with your ailment?"

"I do not suffer with anything but the lust for blood!"

"I have dealt... with this illness before, in my youth. Long before I became priest here. It is an uncommon orc illness." he croaked. "But it is treatable."

"You try and convince me that I am ill, but I am an orc and I am strong. Tell me what I want to know!"

"Your in an unrestrained state of rage..."

"You have not seen me rage yet, Nord!"

"...It has grown over your life." the priest continued as he struggled to find the air to speak. "It makes you angry and distrustful... Usually a single event can cause it to burst forth with such fury... If it is not treated it will be the cause of your demise!"

The door to the temple opened and another wearing robes entered. This one was a woman. "What's going on!?" she asked in terror, her eyes wide with fear at seeing the orc holding her father up in the air by his throat.

"Danica!" the priest shouted. "Leave us!"

The orc glared at her, increasing his hold on the priests neck, restricting his airway further.

"I want to know where Magoza was headed." Burag demanded. "Or I shall kill this man."

"Do not hurt him!"

"Tell me!"

"No Danica!" the priest pleaded his voice croaked and raspy from the pressure. "Do not tell him, he suffers from the rage madness. He is not well."

"If you do not tell me what I wish to know, then he will die!"

Danica looked at the floor, visibly shaking. "I heard she was headed to Winterhold, now please don't hurt him."

Without a second thought Burag plunged his sword into the chest of the priest, knowing that the woman would be too busy trying to save him from bleeding out to call the authorities. Unexpectedly however, she screamed loudly. The orc threw the old priest to the ground and headed for the temple exit, his mind focused on not loosing any more time. He needed to find Magoza and end her before she was lost to him forever.

As Burag stepped outside the temple he saw an ageing man, eyes wide eyebrows raised and mouth slack as he stared at him in shock.

"What's going on?" the man asked. "Did I hear screaming?" the man began to visibly shake in fear as he saw the blood, still dripping from the sword that Burag held in his hand. "You're the one that Hulda was talking to. I was sure that I didn't like what she told me. The guards will be here soon and you'll be hauled away to the dungeon for what you've done!"

Burag had no time for dialogue. He struck the man dead with a single blow and moved onward, only to find himself surrounded by the city guards moments later. He drew his sword and cut them down with little trouble, leaving their lifeless, bloody bodies sprawled out on the blooded cobbled street.

He left the city behind, his destination clear. Winterhold would be where he would find her and it would be where the abomination of an orc would take her final breath.


	13. The Blizzard to the North

The snowy sabre cat leaped from the cold wet snow covered rocky hill tundra, its claws extended and its mouth agape, ready to strike down its intended prey. It had caught the three of them off guard, knocking Magoza violently to the ground. Valerie drew her acquired elven sword ready to defend against the creature, while Tam rushed in to knock the cat off of Magoza before it could take her head off with its powerful claws. Tam lowered her posture and twisted her body, slamming her plated shoulder into the side of the large cat. It fell to the ground with a roar, as a cloud of snow and dirt was thrown into the air, Magoza scrabbled to her feet and moved away from the animal as it got back to its own feet. It faced Tam who had now become a threat.

While it growled at the elf, Valerie moved behind it, ready to strike. Unfortunately the creature noticed her and began to creep backwards, turning its posture, keeping both Tam and Valerie in its line of sight. The element of surprise which the cat so heavily relied on was now gone. Now it would have to defend itself against the three of them, who hadn't taken kindly to the attack.

A ball of fire rushed rushed at the animal from Magoza's hands. It struck the creature in a fiery explosion. The cat quickly recovered, running around Valerie and Tam at the orc who had thrust the bolt of fire. It scratched at her, she leaped backwards out of reach, narrowly avoiding the sharp dagger like claws. Valerie charged at the creature from behind and slashed at its back legs with her sword. The cat quickly swivelled its heavy mass around and knocked her to the ground before it leaped across at Tam, knocking her to the ground also.

Another fire bolt struck the animal, it turned and let out a roar in frustration. That's when Valerie struck. Leaping at the creature with sword raised and plunging it deep into the animals brain. It fell to the ground lifeless. Valerie sat heavily in the snow, her limbs shaking from the heavy dose of adrenaline that now surged through her veins. She looked at the other two and let out a laugh. The other two joined in as they relieved the tension of the brief yet frightening encounter.

Valerie stood up out of the snow and looked over the fallen animal. She shivered as a blast of cold wind moved through the hills. She looked up at the massing of clouds and felt the frozen wind as a new weather front moved in.

"Damn it!" the Nord exclaimed. The weather was going to turn bad and she knew it. they'd need shelter in order to wait out the storm that was surely going to arrive soon.

"What is it?" Magoza asked her.

Without even looking to the sky, Tam knew what Valerie knew. "Bad weather front is coming in, the temperature is likely to drop even more."

Valerie began to move onward. "We better get moving, or we could freeze."

The other two followed close behind, not wanting to be caught in whatever horror mother nature was going to throw at them shortly. The snow was fairly shallow right now, but in a full blown storm they could all be swallowed up by rising snow that could easily grow deeper than they were tall. meaning it would bury them. That or they could fall into pits or crevices that had been covered up, unseen under the white snowy carpet.

They would keep heading north and with luck would find a road that would take them to Dawnstar. From Dawnstar they would be able to get their bearings so that they could make their way to Winterhold.

Right now however they found themselves unable to navigate. The sun had been blocked by thick, dark clouds and the snow was beginning to fall, making trudging through the snow increasingly difficult.

Valerie peered up at the sky. "The snow fall is fairly light right now, but I fear that it's going to get far worse."

"So what is it you suggest?" Tam asked her.

Valerie turned to her, while she now felt far more comfortable with her than she had done before, she still didn't entirely trust the elf, but for all their sake, she had to put it behind her. "I hope we find shelter somewhere, such as a cave or an overhang."

"I don't think we should wander into a cave." Tam said, squirming at the thought. "I've taken refuge in many caves and they usually have something inside that wants to kill you."

"Agreed, though if the weather gets worse and a cave is the only option to get out of it, then we'll be forced to take it."

The high elf nodded reluctantly. "I have to agree."

As they moved onward the weather grew ever more fierce. Unfortunately they didn't find any form of refuge from what quickly became a full blown snowstorm.

Each footstep became increasingly difficult as the snow grew deeper. Eventually their entire legs disappeared into the snow as it rose ever higher. Magoza struggling the most, due to her short size and thin stature.

After moving through the harsh bitter cold,taking what seemed like days, but had only been hours. They came across a building below them, with stone walls and a thatched roof. The building lay at the base of a rocky cliff they found themselves stood atop.

They managed to somehow find their way down, slipping and sliding, to the base where Valerie knocked hard on the wooden door, desperately hoping that someone was home. The door opened shortly thereafter by a Nord male dressed in mages robes.

"What are you doing out in this weather!" he asked suspiciously. "You will surely catch your deaths."

"We were caught unaware." Valerie said. "Can we please come in, we require shelter."

His eyes focused on the orc. "Depends on whether or not she calls Malacath lord?"

Valerie looked back at Magoza. "Why should that matter?"

"This is the Hall of the Vigilant. We hunt Daedra and all forms of vile creatures. Daedra worshippers are not allowed within these halls."

Magoza shook her head. "No, I don't worship him. If I did then I'd still be in an orc stronghold, not hanging with a Nord and an Altmer."

The Vigilant seemed more than pleased at that response and allowed them in, at least for now.

Once inside they were met by a number of people, both men and women, mostly humans, with only a few mer among them.

"Sit by the fire." the man said, as he walked over to another man who was wearing different, darker coloured brown robes to all the others. "Keeper." He said to the him. "Do we offer them rest for the night?"

The one known as the Keeper walked up to the three women and looked at them, as they sat by the raised rectangular fire pit, it's heat like a warm blanket on their cold wet skin and clothes.

"It depends what the reason is they are out here?" the Keeper asked.

Valerie looked up at him, her neck creaked with cold. "We are making our way to Dawnstar."

"Why?" the Keeper asked his voice full of distrust and suspicion.

"We are no longer welcome in Whiterun." she told them not wanting to go into the specifics as to why they were no longer welcome. Murder was not something you revealed to a host when your own death lay outside.

"Why are you no longer welcome?" the Keeper asked, his tone becoming more forceful.

Valerie looked over at Tam, then at Magoza. "An incident occurred with the Thalmor." she explained truthfully. "I'd rather not get into it."

The Keeper nodded slowly. "We are Vigils of Stendarr, we will show compassion to you during your need for shelter. After all mercy is what Stendarr has taught us. But be aware, if any of you worship Daedra or are conjurers, then you will be dealt with. For in the matter of things regarding Oblivion, us Vigils have no mercy to spare."

Valerie agreed. "I worship Talos, and hate any abominable creature, so you don't have to worry."

The Keeper smiled. "Then I will allow you to stay the night."

Magoza thanked him. "We really appreciate this, thank you."

"Once the weather has cleared you can continue your journey, but heed this warning. We ever find out that you walk in the darkness of the Daedra, then we will drag you back into the light of the Divines."

With the warning over, the Keeper turned and headed into another room, leaving the three of them in the main room with the numerous Vigils. They did not speak to them, instead the mass spoke among themselves. They all seemed normal, yet this place felt like a cult. Even though their goals appeared, at least on the surface, to be noble.

"Nice place." Tam whispered sarcastically to her two comrades, as she stared into the fire. "I've heard of the Vigils of Stendarr before, they exist all over Tamriel. Very strict on Daedra worship, Vampires and Were-kind. They can also be very abrasive."

"That's no joke." Magoza observed. "Notice how many times we were threatened? And we only just got here."

Valerie leaned forwards in her chair and webbed her fingers as she rested them on her lap. "Let's not talk about this here." She whispered. "We should be thankful to the Nine that they let us in."

Magoza agreed with the sentiment, but not entirely. "Shouldn't we also be thankful to these Vigils for letting us stay?" she asked.

Valerie nodded. "Of course, they do have my gratitude."

A female Dunmer Vigil walked over to them and greeted them with a warm smile.

"Hello." Tam said to her.

"I am wondering if any of you would like some bread to eat?" the Vigil asked them.

"That would be lovely." Valerie smiled.

"I must ask that if you have any coin to spare, that you spare it in return for the bread." the Vigil pleaded. "It is not required, but it will help us."

Magoza reached into the satchel that she wore and pulled out thirty gold pieces. "Here, for all of your kindness."

"Thank you." The Vigil said as she took the coin and moved off to get the bread.

Valerie stared at her young friend. "Where did you find the gold?" she asked.

"I brought the gold I received from that bounty with me, when I left the house to save you."

Valerie laughed aloud. "You are a very smart young woman." she said loudly. "And very forward thinking."

"Not quite, I forgot the map I got from the general store." the Orsimer added.

The Vigil returned with three pieces of bread. "Tomorrow morning you are allowed to have some stew. Bread only for tonight as a heavy stomach is bad for sleeping."

The three of them thanked the Vigil for the bread before they began to tear at it with their teeth. Their clothes were already halfway to being dry and the fatigue of the day was starting to catch up with them.

After finishing the bread, the three of them slouched in their chairs, embracing the heat from the fire. Soon thereafter, they fell asleep.

The morning came quickly and after they had eaten some stew, said thank you and goodbye, they headed off down the barely visible snowy dirt pathway which quickly became obscured by the settled snow. Soon however they came across the road where they headed north towards Dawnstar, the sun barely over the horizon.

* * *

Just under eleven hours later, they found themselves in Dawnstar. The streets of the small city glistened white with snow. For the three weary travellers, the sight of the wooden houses jutting up out of the white was much welcomed.

They headed right down a snow covered street that lay on elevated ground above the rest of the city, before they headed into the Windpeak Inn.

Inside a raised and most welcoming fire pit loomed large in the centre of the room. The noise from the merry patrons brought a smile to their faces as they sat down, Valerie and Magoza at one table and Tam at one over, their backs facing the blazing hot fire.

"Well." Valerie said. "We've returned to civilization."

Tam looked around. "Seems like a nice place, apart from all the snow that is."

"If you don't like the snow then you'll love Winterhold." Valerie added.

Tam sighed. "By that you mean it's cold."

Valerie chuckled. "Probably the coldest place in Skyrim."

Magoza mused at how the two were getting along now, or seemed to be getting along. There were still moments of tension between the them, but overall they were at peace with each other.

The noise of the inn quieted down as the main door opened and someone entered. Valerie, Magoza and Tam spun around to see who it was that had caused the room to go so deathly silent so suddenly. Where they were expecting to see perhaps Thalmor or Imperials looking for their heads, they saw a single Khajiit male wearing blue robes with a hood pulled up over his head.

"Why has everyone gone quiet?" Magoza asked.

"I'm not sure." Valerie answered. "It might be because he's a Khajiit, or because he looks like a mage, or perhaps more likely its both."

"Cathay to be precise." Tam said seemingly out of nowhere.

"What?" Valerie asked turning to her.

"It's the breed of Khajiit that he is." Tam explained to a disinterested Valerie.

As the Khajiit stood there unsure whether to proceed further into the inn or not. The innkeeper made his displeasure known to the feline visitor.

"I won't have your kind in here, not after what happened!"

The Khajiit placed his hands upon his hips and spoke in the stereotypical third person perspective, that the feline species tended to speak in. "This one assures you that Jo'Agro has not been to this place before."

"I don't care." the innkeeper said. "Wherever your kind goes things are sure to disappear soon after, or by the look of your clothes, you're a wizard as well. I won't have either in this inn!"

The Khajiit wasn't having any of it. "This one simply wishes for a place to rest before one continues on the long journey tomorrow, Jo'Agro will not cast spells while he is here, or steal any item."

"I don't care, be gone!"

Magoza hated the bigotry she was seeing and hearing. "They're being abusive for no reason."

"Nothing we can do about it." Valerie whispered back.

Magoza suddenly rose from her seat. Not only could she not stand to see such bigotry continue, he also looked like he could be a wizard or something. It could be that he had come from Winterhold and might be able to assist them in some way.

"What are you doing?" Valerie asked her in a hushed tone.

Magoza walked up to the Khajiit. "There you are Jo'Agro." she said repeating the name he had called himself moments earlier. "We've been waiting for you."

The innkeeper looked at Magoza then at Valerie and Tam. "He's with you is he?"

"Yes." Magoza said.

"Fine, but if anything goes missing, or the inn burns down then I expect you to pay for it."

Magoza gestured to the Khajiit to walk with her, which he did, albeit uneasily. He sat next to Tam who squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

"Jo'Agro thanks the strangers for their kindness." he said sincerely.

Valerie looked irritably at Magoza as she sat next to her, before smiling at the Khajiit. "You're welcome." The Nord said not quite as sincerely as her young friend.

"I'm Magoza." the orc told him.

The Khajiit bowed his head. "Jo'Agro is pleased to meet the orc, Magoza."

Magoza pointed. "This is Valerie and that is Tam."

"This one cannot offer anything in return for such kindness offered."

"Kindness is in short supply here in Skyrim." Tam said bitterly, realizing that if it wasn't for Magoza, she would have happily seen him expelled back out into the freezing cold.

Valerie's head sank as the feeling of guilt washed over her. She was as guilty as everyone in this inn of being prejudiced against those different from her. It pained her to think that if she had not found the young Magoza, so injured and fragile looking in the dirt, whether she would have discriminated against her for not being human?

Magoza saw the look of shame on Valerie's face and placed her hand on her shoulder in comfort. She knew that the Nord had a hard time breaking from her habits. It was tough to escape ones upbringing.

"Thanks." Valerie said feeling a little better.

Magoza peered over at the Khajiit. "Where is it you're headed?"

"Jo'Agro is a master of the arcane." The Khajiit informed them. "The destination is the College of Winterhold."

Tam grinned at him. "Winterhold is where we're headed."

"Then this meeting is most fortuitous." Jo'Agro said happily.

Valerie, true to form, wasn't sure she trusted their new 'friend'. "You said you were a master of the arcane." she said. "What is it exactly that you are a master in?"

He looked around to see if anyone was listening. "The art of conjuration."

Valerie felt herself tense up.

"What do you focus on in your craft?" Tam asked him.

The Khajiit seemed more than happy to respond. "Jo'Agro's focus is on summoning and binding items."

"What do you summon?" Tam enquired.

Valerie bit her lip. She wanted to ask him if he summoned the souls of the dead. Souls that should be left dead and not tormented by the sick minds of the living. She decided however that hostility would only alienate her from Magoza and that was the last thing she wanted right now.

Jo'Agro, unaware of Valerie's internal plight responded. "Various creatures. This one can also bind bows, which has been quite handy for the bandits."

"What kind of creatures do you summon?" Magoza asked her own interest peaking.

"Best not to discuss it here." the Khajiit told them.

"Why not?" Magoza asked.

"He can tell us later." Valerie said knowing full well why he didn't want to tell them here. The answer he would give was that he summoned Daedra creatures. To what extent she didn't know, probably atronachs. However, she had heard of powerful conjurers that were able to summon Dremora, the human-like Daedra. How they were able to control them into battling for them she didn't know. Perhaps they were just happy to kill and the conjurer enabled that.

Valerie suddenly had a thought that could help them immensely on their journey. "Do you have a map?" she asked Jo'Agro

"Yes." he replied. "Travelling without one is foolish." His brow furrowed. "These ones did not travel with a map?"

"Can I see it?" the Nord asked ignoring his unintended insult.

The Khajiit reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the map before he passed it along to Valerie, who promptly unfolded it and laid it flat on the table in front of her. She studied it for a moment, tracing a straight line from Dawnstar to Winterhold with her finger, then tracing the road between the two cities.

"The road to Winterhold is three times longer, than if we went straight there by wilderness." she informed them.

Tam knew what Valerie was getting at and she didn't agree. "The road is a lot safer than wandering through the wilderness and we're less likely to get lost."

"I'm wondering." Valerie uttered, lost in thought, as she studied the map further. "I wonder if travelling the coast would be a good idea. It's far shorter than the road and Winterhold is also near the coast, so we should get there much quicker than if we took the long way."

Magoza decided to side with Tam on this one. "The Road is safer, besides I don't want to be jumped by some horrible creature, or attacked by bandits or something else equally nasty."

Despite the fact that Valerie didn't like the idea of days on the cold icy road's, she also knew that it was preferable to finding themselves facing something impassable and having to turn back. "All right, we take the road. I suggest we gather supplies before we head off." she traced the road with her finger till she found a label called the _Nightgate Inn_. "There is an inn about half way. it'll probably take us a good day and a half to get there on foot, taking into account rest periods and the like."

Tam rose from her seat and stood behind Valerie and looked down at the map. "We'll have to set off early and get as much ground covered as we can."

Valerie folded the map up and passed it back to Jo'Agro, before stretching out her arms in front of her. "We should head out and get supplies now, before the shops close."

"That is most wise." Jo'Agro, their new comrade agreed.

Valerie found that she had become sort of glad that the Khajiit would be coming with them. The larger the group was, the easier it would be to overcome any cretin that had made its way onto the road and saw them to be either a threat, or dinner.

Valerie looked at the orc, high elf and Khajiit and smirked. They were an odd bunch, yet somehow it was all starting to feel right.

"I think I should get the supplies." Valerie told them as she stood up. "They might raise the prices if any of you head in."

"Probably." Tam agreed.

Magoza reached into her satchel and took out a coin purse. "Here, you'll need this."

Valerie took it before she headed out into the cold snowy street and headed down the hill, deeper into the city. After looking around she approached one of the city guards, who wore armour that was almost identical to the guards in Whiterun, except the colours which were grey and on the shield was the city logo which was a four point star, not unlike the pupils of Magoza's eyes.

"Excuse me?" she asked him.

The guard looked over at her. "What is it?" he asked.

"I'm looking for the general store?"

"We don't have one really, we're a mining community, and we get most of our trade from merchants that come through. We're rich on ores and that's our strength."

"You don't have a general store, how do you survive?"

"I just told you, through merchants, we get our food through fishing and hunting. We got a big boat that gets all the fish you can eat, but it's not in dock right now."

"But what if the weather is bad and the merchants can't get here, or the ship can't get out?"

The guard folded his arms, which looked awkward considering he had his shield in his hand. "The same thing that would happen if we had a general store and the merchants couldn't get through, or the ship couldn't get out. Sure the general store can salt their fish so it lasts, but too much salt is bad for you and makes your blood run thick, that's no good for anyone." The guard unfolded his arms. "In any case we have systems in place for that eventuality. We have preserved foodstuffs stored away that can be used in the case of an extended storm."

"Well I'm looking to buy some supplies. Know of where I can get some?"

"Try the apothecary, she has been know to sell potion ingredients, that can also be used as foodstuffs, also if you need weapons try the smith. Oh and when the ship gets back in, head to the docks. They might sell some fish to an outsider. If you're heading off then you can preserve it with some salt you can get at the apothecary."

"Will do, and thank you."

"You're welcome." He turned and left.

Valerie scratched her head. "No general store." she repeated, though she guessed that they don't get many visitors through so they didn't really need one. What would miners need with trinkets after all.

She made her way the the apothecary first and purchased some salt pile, a silverside perch which was a small fish and some wheat. She then headed back to the inn where she headed straight to the innkeeper. She gathered some more foodstuffs, such as venison that could be salted using the salt pile she had. Happy with the amount of food supplies, she returned to the tables where her comrades were sat.

"No general store." she told them. "Pretty much everyone who doesn't own a store or is in the Jarl's direct employ works the mines." Valerie looked over and realized that Tam wasn't even there. "Where's Tam?" she asked.

"Gone to the blacksmith to get a weapon." Magoza replied.

"Good idea." Valerie said. "When she gets back we should try and get a room, get some rest ready for an early start tomorrow."

Soon after Tam returned with a new steel warhammer, they purchased beds for the night. As the dawn broke, the three plus their new travel partner, set off south on the only road out of the city on their journey to Winterhold.


	14. In Haste to Whiterun

Jalia watched the pine trees of the forest scroll by, as they traveled down the road in the horse drawn wagon. According to the Nord man Rontag, they were nearly at the small walled town of Helgen. A settlement that was apparently built inside the walls of an old fort. She looked across at Kalon, who shivered in the cold winter air, as he had done for the passed several miles now. While she was wearing the fur coat she had purchased in Elinhir, he refused to wear his for some reason. Perhaps it was what Rontag had said when they were back in Elinhir. Or maybe he was simply trying to prove something? The truth was that she simply didn't understand him sometimes. She sighed aloud, finally having enough of him. His teeth were chattering as he cuddled himself with his arms, rubbing his torso in a futile attempt to keep himself warm.

"Put the coat on." she said opening the small wooden box that it was stored in.

"I'm not cold." he said. Barely able to speak, as his jaw shook in the freezing weather.

Rontag, who was sat at the front next to Doran who was driving, turned around looking back at them. "Even I have put on a coat, now don't be stupid. You'll catch your death like that. I was joking when I spoke of the brigands wanting to rob you back in Elinhir. Now put it on. Your not brave, but an idiot!"

Kalon reluctantly reached into the box and pulled out the coat, putting it on. Shivering all the while.

"We'll be at Helgen in a moment." Doran informed them from the drivers seat. "I can see the walls from here. That is Helgen right?"

Rontag looked ahead. "I think so."

Moments later, they had entered the walled town. With the horses hitched to a post in front of water troughs and the wagon secured, they entered the warm inn. Rontag soon followed them, after ensuring the horses were fed.

He sat down at the table where the rest of them were sat. where Jalia cleared her throat, getting everyone's attention. "I have to apologise." she said to both Rontag and Doran.

"Why?" Doran asked.

"When I first met you, I was really rude to you."

"No need to apologise." Rontag said. "You didn't know us. it's better to be cautious."

Kalon put his arm around her. "See I told you they were okay."

"You did, but you can be silly sometimes." she mocked playfully. "Like out there, refusing to wear the coat."

"Maybe." Kalon replied. "I just don't like wearing such big clothes."

Rontag shook his head with incredulity. "You didn't wear it because it's 'big'?"

"I meant heavy." he said in annoyance. "Clothes should be light and thin, not big and heavy."

"We're in Skyrim now, lad." Rontag reminded him.

"You keep saying." Kalon retorted

"Light clothes are only good for getting a good air flow. You don't want good air flow in the cold or else you freeze."

Their discussion was put on hold as the innkeeper walked over to them. "Hello, do you lot want anything?"

Rontag thought for a moment. "Got anything special?"

"I got mead with juniper berries."

"Sounds like something I should try." Rontag said as he looked at the rest of the troupe. "How about you lot?"

They all agreed and Rontag ordered four tankards brimming with the special brew of mead. Shortly after they received their drinks and they drunk it heartily and chatted.

After a few hours of this, a courier entered the inn, fresh from the road. He headed straight to the bar and began talking to the innkeeper.

"Have you heard about what's been going on in Whiterun over the passed few days?" the courier asked, his voice quiet, but still loud enough for others to hear.

Rontag's ears raised at the word Whiterun and he began to listen while the others continued to talk among themselves.

"No, what?" the innkeeper asked, his interest peaked.

"Well about four days ago there was a big fight. Some Thalmor were looking for someone and some Imperial Soldiers were helping them."

"Imperials helping Thalmor?" the innkeeper asked incredulously.

Rontag listened intently to the conversation, his heart began to beat faster at the mention of the Thalmor.

"Well they found who it was, only some woman got involved. They went to arrest her, but they were rescued by an orc. Two of the Thalmor were killed and the third ran off. The Imperials were healed by the priest at the temple and they were let go. They left the city to look for the Thalmor that got away to see if he needed help."

The innkeeper was stunned and so was Rontag. Thalmor in Whiterun? And being helped by the Legion? He never thought he'd ever see the day.

"That's not all." the courier continued. "Yesterday morning the priest was killed inside the temple and the innkeeper, Barnabas was killed outside along with a load of guards by another orc, apparently looking for the first."

"Do you know any of their names?" the innkeeper asked.

"Of the people that escaped the Thalmor?"

"Yes. If they come here, then maybe I'll offer them some free drinks for killing those elves, though it troubles me that the Legion would be helping them. They must have their reason."

"Well the one they were looking for was a high elf like them. A local got involved, an ex-legionnaire or something. She was apparently run through by a sword in the war and lost her husband..."

Rontag didn't need to listen to any more. He rose up from his seat sharply, knocking his chair to the floor and began to make his way to the door.

Doran looked over at his friend in shock, having not heard anything the courier had just said. "Where are you going?"

Rontag spun around. "Whiterun." he said.

"I know that, but aren't we going to leave it till morning?"

"Valerie might be in danger!" Rontag growled.

The courier turned to him. "That was her name, Valerie. She escaped in a stolen carriage with the high elf and the orc, not the orc that killed the priest, but the one that helped them escape. If you know what I'm trying to say."

Doran rose up from his seat. "What's going on?" he asked, he looked at the courier then to Rontag, his jaw agape.

"Valerie is in danger, I need to get to Whiterun as soon as I can!"

Rontag stormed out of the inn. Jalia stood up from her seat and stared at Doran, who shrugged his shoulders before he also left the inn, closely followed by Jalia and then Kalon.

Outside, Rontag was aided by Doran and their two friends as they prepared the horses and the wagon. Within ten minutes they were back on the road, on their way to Whiterun.

* * *

The hours it took to travel to the city were like torture to Rontag. Seeing the beautiful city in all its glory in the evening sun didn't help either.

As they pulled up towards the stables they saw someone crouched down on the road, rubbing his hands along what appeared to be burn marks from a fire. As they got closer, it was revealed to them that the man was a high elf. Rontag jumped from the wagon as soon as it stopped and rushed over to him, his arms pumping and his anger welling. He wanted answers, perhaps this elf could give them to him. He would beat them out if he had to, no one was going to stand between him and his wife. He reached down and grabbed the elf by the scuff of the neck and pulled him to his feet.

"What are you doing!?" the elf demanded.

"Are you Thalmor!" Rontag spat.

"No!" the elf said, both shocked and angry by the sudden attack. "I'm ex-Legion if you must know."

Rontag let him go, but he still needed answers. "What are you doing here!?"

The elf looked down at the dirt. "I'm looking for my daughter."

Rontag remembered back to what the courier had said back in Helgen. "I heard that the Thalmor were looking for a high elf here, and that she escaped. Is that who you're looking for?"

"No." the elf said. "She is not the one I'm looking for."

"But you said you were looking for your daughter?"

"Yes I did."

Rontag no longer wished to speak to the cryptic elf, so he moved passed him towards the city gates, making sure he bumped him hard with his shoulder. "I don't have time for games." Rontag uttered. "I'm going to talk to to the Jarl, I need to know where they are headed, my wife is involved."

Doran, Kalon and Jalia caught up with the angry Nord as he made his way towards the city gate.

"I also need to know where they are headed." the elf said after them as he began to follow. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Rontag stopped and turned to him. "Yes I do mind."

Doran placed his hand on Rontag's shoulder as he caught up. "Come on, Rontag, he's looking for his daughter."

Rontag paused for a few moments. He understood being separated from family, that was why he was here. "Fine." he accepted. "Just don't get in my way."

Rontag rushed to Valerie's father's house, desperately hoping that it wasn't her that the courier had been talking about. He saw the house, just as he remembered it. He walked to the front door only to find it was open and the building empty. She was gone and it looked like the house had been occupied by a second person, possibly the orc woman. Rontag stormed back out of the house, followed closely behind by Doran, Kalon, Jalia and the elf.

They headed deeper into the city, up the hill towards the palace that lay at the very top. Once inside they were met by some guards.

"Hey, what do you lot want!" the guard on the left asked harshly.

Rontag glared at them. "I am looking for my wife, Valerie."

"Iron-Axe?" the guard asked.

"Yes." Rontag confirmed. "I need to speak with Balgruuf the Great."

"Balgruuf the Greater is Jarl now." the guard corrected. "She's gone and the Jarl's not happy about any of it."

"I need to see him!"

"Fine, follow me."

They followed the guard up the stairs, then to the right, passed two long dining tables that lay either side of a fire pit where the Jarl was sat.

He looked over at them, proud looking in his fancy clothes and gold, ruby circlet. "What is this?" he asked in annoyance.

The guard looked across at Rontag. "This is the Iron-Axe woman's husband."

"Ahhh." Balgruuf said, his mood easing. "So you didn't die in the war after all. I must say that you've returned at a bad time friend."

"What has happened?"

"Thalmor came into my city unannounced!" The Jarl snapped. "They were looking for someone, I don't know who, except that it was an elf. Your wife got involved and they tried to arrest her. But some orc girl that had been staying with her wasn't having any of it and two of the Thalmor guards were killed. I didn't know until after the fact. I sometimes wonder what the point of guards are, if they are incapable of doing something as simple as reporting these things before they spiral out of control!"

The high elf they had found outside the city stepped forward. He bowed his head to the Jarl before he addressed him. "What of the orc girl?" He asked.

The Jarl looked to him. "Who are you?"

"I am Meratur, Magoza's true father." the high elf said revealing his name.

"Father of an orc?" the Jarl asked sceptically. "No matter. Some murderous orc is looking for her."

"Burag." Meratur said simply. "We used to be great friends, but over the years he has grown distant and distrustful. He is looking for Magoza and he will kill her and anyone that happens to be with her when he catches up to them."

Rontag glared at the elf angrily. "Then we must find them before he does!" he turned to the Jarl. "Do you know where they were headed?"

The Jarl shook his head. "No, but Danica at the temple of Kynareth may know. But be careful, she lost her father to that Burag, as your friend called him."

Rontag knew that left to him, he would question the priestess rather harshly. He was too emotional right now, too riled up and could not be trusted to do it without causing her grief. He looked to his friend Doran. "I am not in the right mind to speak with her. Will you do it for me?".

Doran accepted the responsibility. "I will see to it." He turned and left quickly.

Meratur stepped up to Rontag. "When you head off, I must ask that I join you."

Rontag glared at him, but agreed. "fine, you can come too."

Jalia who had been stood quietly with Kalon several paces behind them stepped forwards. "Can I come too?"

Kalon grabbed her by the arm. "Let's just get a cart to Solitude. We don't need to go gallivanting about, chasing after phantoms and crazy people."

Jalia snatched her shoulder away. "Some bard you are, turning your nose up at adventure. Think of the songs you can write. The bards that history remembers are the ones that have tales to tell, the ones that adventured and saw the world, the ones that made sonnets based on them. Not the ones that learned the same songs as everyone else."

"Being remembered is overrated, now lets go!"

Jalia shook her head. "I want to help them, besides I want adventure, not to be holed up in some city."

Kalon threw his hands up into the air in defeat. "You'll be the death of me woman!" he cried.

* * *

Doran stepped into the Temple of Kynareth. The sun was already setting and he could feel the fatigue of long days events as they began to catch up with him.

He walked over to the robed woman, who sat on a bench on the far side of the large room next to the shrine.

"Excuse me?" he asked her.

She looked up at him, her face torn with grief. Her eyes were red and slightly swollen, as if she had been crying for hours.

"Can I have a moment of your time?" Doran asked softly, in an attempt to get a response without being pushy.

"What is it you want?" she asked him, trying to hide her inner torment.

Doran sat next to her. "I'm sorry about your father, but I need to know where Valerie Iron-Axe is headed?"

"Who are you to demand that!" she sputtered in anger.

"I am a friend of Rontag's." Doran told her, attempting to keep his voice soft and measured. "He has returned to the city and wants to find her. He asked me to talk to you because his mind is ripe with worry for her."

Danica wiped tears from her swollen eyes. "I trust you are telling the truth."

"The one who has caused you so much pain will do so again, unless we know where he and Valerie are headed."

"Magoza, the orc." the priestess began. "The one who Valerie took in. She wanted to go to Winterhold. This was before they were forced to flee the city. They might still be headed there. That is where I sent the one who murdered my father."

"Thank you." Doran imparted. "Take strength from Kynareth in this time." He stood rose up from where he was sitting.

"Wait." she said, reaching out to him with her hand. "Before my father..." she stammered, as she remembered the horrible unjust attack that had happened before her very eyes. "Before he passed on." she said fighting through more tears. "He said that the orc man was suffering from some kind of rage madness. I have heard of the orc berserker rage, when they become riled up, but I've never heard of any madness attributed to it before."

Doran rubbed his chin. He hadn't heard of it either. "I'll look into it." he said. "And thank you."

He left the temple and began to make his way up the long steps back towards Dragonsreach. Stood outside the palace doors were Rontag, Meratur, Kalon and Jalia.

"Winterhold." Doran told him.

Rontag nodded. "Then that is where we go."

He addressed Meratur. "Have you ever heard of an ailment called rage madness?"

Meratur shook his head with a bemused expression. "Never heard of it."

"Apparently Burag suffers from it."

"If he does suffer from something then that would explain a great deal."

Rontag passed them. "This is all good, but we need to get going."

Doran quickly rushed in front of his friend to stop him from moving any further.

"What!?" Rontag asked him annoyed.

"We should get rest before we head off." Doran said. "Not to mention the horses do."

"The horses be damned!" Rontag shouted. "A murderer is a threat to my wife, I cannot afford rest, neither can the horses."

"They have a few days head start, he only left yesterday. He will not catch them for days. We can rest and take the carriage in the morning. We can get at least a quarter way to Winterhold by tomorrow evening."

Rontag cracked his knuckles before his posture slumped in acceptance. "You're right, we need rest before we move on." He looked around at everybody. "Get the camping gear from the wagon. You can sleep on the bedrolls in my wife's house." He looked at Meratur. "You'll need sleeping gear for tomorrow night."

"It will be done." Meratur responded.

Doran looked down at the city. "Look, I need to get back to the stables to properly see to the horses. We dumped a lot on the stable keeper with very little explanation. I should see that everything has been dealt with."

As Doran headed down the steps back down into the city, Rontag turned to sound of one of the large Dragonsreach doors opening. Stood there in the open door was Balgruuf.

"Good luck." the Jarl said. "And Talos be with you." He turned and headed back into the palace, closing the door shut behind him.

A difficult journey lay ahead of them, yet together they would succeed. They had to, or more people would surely die.


	15. Nightgate Inn

It was cold, very cold. Even Valerie, a Nord woman who had been raised in this harsh land thought it was absolutely freezing. The road, the trees, the dirt and even their clothes were covered in snow and ice. Jo'Agro, the Khajiit that they had picked up in Dawnstar, shivered as light snow fell from the sky. Magoza's face was sunken, Tam walked with her arms folded, slightly hunched, and Valerie was annoyed as she kept slipping on patches of ice. Altogether they were quite the unhappy bunch.

Tam let out sharp exhale. "How much further till we get to this inn?" she asked in utter frustration. "It's absolutely freezing and I don't know how much of this damnable weather I can take."

Valerie shrugged. "Could be in a mile, could be in ten."

"Better be soon." Tam warned.

"Jo'Agro's tail feels like it is about to fall off." the Khajiit added unhappily.

Valerie began to speed up as she saw what looked like a building ahead. "I think I see it, or at least I hope it's the inn."

Magoza's head raised. "Where?" she asked eagerly, the prospect of being warm and dry indoors, appealed to her right now, much like it did to the others after so long in the cold.

Soon they had all seen it, the lonely inn at the edge of a small semi frozen lake. They made their way up the snowy path then down the slope that lead around to the front of the building before they made their way up the long slippery steps and finally through the front door. The first thing the four of them noticed was the blazing heat coming from the raised fire pit that lay in the center of the spacious inn. It didn't look too dissimilar to the one in Dawnstar, accept this one was far emptier, having only an innkeeper, who sat snoozing in a chair next to the roaring fire.

The innkeeper lifted his head and looked at them. He stood up and made his way behind the bar, wobbled and leaned against it, still a little woozy from his nap.

"Come in and get that horrid cold out." he greeted, before he let out a loud yawn.

"Thank you." Valerie said him as they all made their way to a table and sat down.

"The weather has been really bad up here the passed week." the innkeeper told them. "I hope it doesn't get as bad as last year, took my father it did."

"Sorry to hear that." Magoza said sincerely.

"Nah, it's fine. A Nord has to move on from these things. Got to keep the inn running as he did and his father before that."

"But nobody's here." Tam said as she looked around at the empty inn.

"I get the odd person coming in. Usually people on their way to or from Windhelm come through this way. And weary travellers spend quite the coin."

"Aren't you worried about bandits?" Valerie asked him, concerned that a lone innkeeper in the middle of nowhere was a likely target for undesirables.

"Too cold up here for the likes of them." the innkeeper told them as he grabbed a cloth and began to wipe the bar down. "Besides, even they need a good place to drink every once in a while."

After a few hours had passed, the door to the inn opened for the first time since they had entered. Letting some of the cold air in, and the warm air out. A Nord man entered, closed the door behind him then sighed heavily. The innkeeper smiled at him.

"Fultheim, I thought you were going to Winterhold?"

The Nord man sat at the bar. "I did." he responded. "It's been over a month since I was last here, Hadring. Or at least I think it's been a month."

"Well no matter how long it's been, time certainly does fly, though I must ask why are you back here?"

"Didn't like the place, they gave me a drink limit in the inn."

"It's a long way to walk because they gave you a drink limit."

"You don't know how much I need that drink."

As the two continued to speak, Tam leaned in towards Valerie, whispering into her ear. "I know that man." she whispered. "Or I think I know him."

Valerie turned to her. "Who, the one that just came in?"

"Yes, he's a Blade."

"Him?" Valerie said disbelieving. "He looks like a total drunkard."

"The Thalmor will do that to you." Tam said, her words filled with bile.

Valerie looked over at Fultheim. "Why don't you talk to him?"

"No." Tam said vehemently. "We need to keep ourselves separate. He calls himself Fultheim now, it wouldn't be fair on him."

"He may need to know that he isn't alone." Valerie pointed out.

He pick up a Tankard of mead that the innkeeper had just filled, and quaffed it down, mead spilled down his front and he let out a groan in displeasure.

"He looks lonely."

"What if the Thalmor come here looking for me?" Tam asked, her voice remaining low. "Fultheim just looks like any other Nord, but if the innkeeper tells them I spoke to him then he'll be a target. If I don't say anything then he'll fade away into obscurity."

"What if he doesn't want to fade away?" Valerie enquired.

Magoza leaned over to them having not heard their hushed discussion. "What are you two talking about?"

Tam changed the subject not wanting to risk Fultheim's well being. "Well I certainly am glad to be out of the cold." she said rather loudly.

Fultheim turned to them, annoyed by her sudden shouting. "Would you mind being a little quieter?" he asked. "Some people are trying to drink away their sorrows!"

Hadring the innkeeper shook his head in disappointment. "You should calm it down Fultheim, keep drinking at that rate and the alcohol will wreck your insides."

Tam turned away, trying to obscure herself from view by hiding behind Valerie. She failed.

"Wait." Fultheim said. "Do I know you?"

"Who?" Magoza asked.

"You're that elf, I remember you. You were sort of an honorary member of that thing, or did you become a full member?"

Tam didn't respond, she didn't want to respond.

"Oh yeah, you were a full member, I remember now. didn't they get you yet?" he asked. "Well they nearly got me, or should I say get my family. They were living in Cyrodiil, but not any more. Now they're dead. Disappeared in the night, snatched away."

Hadring pulled the drink away from him. "I think that perhaps you shouldn't drink any more tonight."

Fultheim turned to him and snatched the drink back "Don't tell me how much I can drink!" he spat.

It was far too late for Tam to remain unnoticed. He was in the middle of making a scene and there was only one thing that she could do now. She drummed the table with her fingers before she stood up and walked over to him, asking Hadring to leave them for a few minutes. The innkeeper complied, leaving them both alone. She cleared her throat, as she tried to figure where to begin.

After a few moments of watching him stir his drink with his finger she began. "It's been over five years." she said to him, with no clue as to what to say next.

"It has?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "That long already?"

"I've been on the run since the day we were officially disbanded." she told him.

"Yeah, I've been on the run up till about a year ago. That's when I realized that I honestly didn't care no longer. They find me, or they don't find me." He let out a snort. "What's the difference?" He took another swag of his drink.

She remembered him well now, he used to be master of the sword and it seemed he still carried his Akaviri katana in it's sheath around his waist. Sadly it looked as though now, he'd probably lop his own arm off if he tried to use it.

"How many of those have you drunk?" she asked him, concerned that he would simply drink himself to death if given the chance.

"Third one." he responded with a slight slur.

"But you only just got here."

"It was a long trip." he said defensively. "I was thirsty."

"You used to be a very skilled swordsman. Why turn to the poison?"

"Why _not_ turn to it. It's here, it's plentiful and you know that it'll kill you for certain if you drink too much for too long. it's not like waiting for those damned Thalmor to come and chop my head off, or whatever it is they do. Knowing them they'll probably turn me into a worm or something, using their magic."

Tam sighed. She felt terribly sorry for him. She thought she'd taken the fall of the Blades hard, but it had absolutely destroyed this man, who had once been so full of life, so full of energy.

"You should try the booze." Fultheim suggested. "It makes you forget almost everything. Even your name, I mean my real name. It's good that y'know, I don't wanna remember my real name."

"We all knew when the war turned sour that it was already the end." she said to him. "Blade operatives were already being hunted by then, well before the war had even ended."

"We should have been calmer." he said. "We were in Dominion territory causing trouble years before the war started."

"We had to."

"Who says the war wasn't caused by our meddling."

"You know that's not true." Tam said. "The Thalmor have been planning war for a very long time."

Fultheim emptied his tankard with a final swig. "All I know is that you and I are still alive. Perhaps we can find some of the others, y'know Dunius, Jaleb, Sylvia, Delphine and have a big ol' reunion party?"

Tam looked back at her two friends and Jo'Agro, who were staring at them, they quickly looked away. She turned back to Fultheim, her heart heavy with sadness.

"Maybe you could come with us?" she asked him not wanting him to waste any more of his life.

"If your destination is a brewery, then sure."

"We're off to Winterhold."

"Been there, place is a dump and they limit how much you can drink. They complained, something about drinking all their supplies of mead. Have you ever heard of anything so stupid?"

"How much do you drink?"

"I told you, enough to forget. It works, I can't even remember who you are."

"Taemwyn."

"Oh that's right, not so good with magic if I recall."

"I really think you should cut down. You don't need the drink, just some friends."

"I have friends, It's a good ol' bottle of mead or ale. In all that is Oblivion, it doesn't even have to be good. As long as it's plentiful, oh and cheap. Has to be cheap. Coin is running low these days."

Tam felt herself grow sick. The man was sat drinking his sorrows away and there was no way to reach him. Everything was about the bottle to him. Nothing else mattered. She wouldn't sit by and let it continue. She began to think. There had to be some way of reaching him. There _had _to be.

* * *

Valerie, Magoza and Jo'Agro, stared across at the two who sat by the bar talking quietly to each other.

"What do you think they are talking about?" Magoza asked.

"Probably the good old days." Valerie suggested.

"No." Jo'Agro corrected. "This one knows what is being discussed, but will not divulge. It is supposed to be secret, just the two of them."

Tam looked over at them and they quickly looked away, trying to pretend that they hadn't been staring, even though they knew that she'd caught them doing just that.

Magoza changed the subject as she leaned forward, her chin resting on her arms that were folded on the table top.

"So how long is it to Winterhold from here?" she asked already knowing full well that they still had quite the trek ahead of them.

Valerie tapped the table with her knuckle, not wanting to accept how far they still had to go either. "We're half way between Dawnstar and Winterhold, so that should give you a clue as to how far we still have left to go."

Magoza turned and looked at the fire. "Perhaps we should stay here tomorrow, have a days rest and continue on the day after."

Valerie agreed wholeheartedly. "It'll be good to get the heat out of our bones and a fresh start."

"Jo'Agro hears wisdom in your words." He said with a toothy grin, happy to prolong having to go back out into the harsh cold. "It is a mystery as to why the college is in such an inhospitable place, it makes no sense to this one."

"Maybe the potions last longer if kept cold?" Valerie suggested.

"That is true." he confirmed. "Though a chest with a magic seal would do the same thing."

"I have an idea." the Nord said with a wide smile.

"What is the suggestion?" he asked her intrigued.

"When we get there, perhaps you can ask them."

"That is most wise." he said. "Though the answer that is given, may not satisfy."

"Could be that the one who founded the college simply lived there."

"Most likely."

Valerie regarded him for a moment. He wasn't what she had expected for a Khajiit, she seemed to have a habit of misjudging people. He seemed normal, apart from never referring to himself in first person. She was interested in his story and as to why he wanted to join the mages guild.

"Is there a problem?" Jo'Agro asked her.

"Tell me, where is it that you come from?" she inquired.

"From Elsweyr."

"Why come here?" she questioned. "There must be other colleges in Tamriel?"

"The College of Winterhold is fabled, one wished to see it for himself. Perhaps teach as well."

Magoza became excited by his statement. "I know nothing of the school of conjuration, do you think you could teach me?"

Jo'Agro turned to the young orc. "There is much to be taught for one willing to learn."

"I can't wait!" Magoza said with glee. "There is so much about magic I have yet to discover."

Valerie stretched her arms out in front of her. "All in good time, tomorrow is a rest day. We'll set out the day after to see this grand college of yours."

Valerie hoped that when they arrived at Winterhold that they'd be welcome. It was easy for Magoza and Jo'Agro to live in the college as mages, but both her and Tam would have to rely on being able to gain employment, hopefully as hold guards based in the city.

Valerie turned her head and faced Tam as she rose up from her seat, she made her way back to them, her face sunken.

"Any luck?" Magoza asked her.

Tam shook her head, "He's a drunkard and too far gone to reach now. All he cares about is his next drink." She sat down at the table.

Valerie looked across at the man who sat there alone. The innkeeper came from one of the rooms, as soon as he stepped foot behind the bar, Fultheim ordered a new drink. She stared at him for a moment. Could it be be that her husband had become like him? That the war had destroyed his spirit also? Was it possible that her husband was at some inn somewhere drinking his sorrows away, unable to return home and face her? She shuddered at the thought. It was entirely possible and that fact made it even more horrible to think about.

"Are you alright?" Magoza asked her.

"Thinking about Rontag." Valerie told her. "Don't worry, everything's fine."

"You're not alone now, remember that."

"No." Valerie agreed. "I'm certainly not alone now. I have found friends." She looked over at Tam. "I have found friends." she repeated with a smile.


	16. After all these Years

So far the journey north had been rather uneventful for the four, turned five travellers, they had left Whiterun hold, late yesterday in search for Rontag's wife and Meratur's daughter, and had only just got back on the road after camping for the night.

They knew they still had a long way to go, though in a few hours they would be stopping at the Nightgate Inn to rest. Then the final stage of the journey would be upon them and they hoped that they'd see the orc before they got there, because as of right now, there had been no sign of him.

Doran had explained to Meratur, the whole story of how they got to this point, who had in turn decided to tell them everything about how he himself got here, hunting for a former friend.

"I met Burag about thirty five years ago." Meratur told them. "He had joined the Imperial Legion before me, so he helped me. We served together and quickly became friends. After about three or four years a new initiate joined, Bagol."

Rontag moved his hand in a circular motion indicating that he wanted the story to be over as soon as possible. "Can we move this along?" he asked.

"I am already giving you the bare bones version."

"All right then, carry on."

Meratur continued on with his story. "She liked me, and I liked her, however things just didn't turn out. Burag had his eye on her, and she was a proud orc who wanted pure children. When Burag became bored with the Legion, he left for his old stronghold and asked her to join him. She did. I saw no reason to remain in the Legion so I left also."

"So where does you becoming a father of an orc and you hunting Burag come into this?" Jalia asked.

"I became a sort of merchant in east High Rock about ten years after I had left the Legion. I found Burag's stronghold, he had become chief. I began trading, getting things they couldn't get themselves. The stronghold lay in the mountains on the border to Skyrim, but you could only get there from the High Rock side. It worked out for a while." Meratur's voice became heavy. "He had changed, got more angry, but I thought it was because he had become chief, but she saw it too. Bagol and I got increasingly close as she no longer felt for him as she once had. We saw each other in secret until one day we met in an old abandoned house a few miles west from the stronghold."

Rontag smirked. "And the deed was done?"

"It was." he confirmed. "I wasn't even sure if it was possible for her to conceive. It has been centuries since those Altmer followers of Trinimac, had been changed to the Orsimer. After Trinimac was supposedly consumed by Boethiah and turned into Malacath. I was unaware of such a pairing, but she became pregnant. We didn't know it at the time, after all Burag liked to enjoy himself from time to time. It wasn't until Magoza was about five that her mother realized that something was up. She didn't look quite right, her features weren't as harsh as other orcs. She also showed advanced magical ability and had a higher magicka pool than normal. Bagol kept it secret from everyone, including Magoza. I was her father and she didn't even know it. I managed to get some spell books to her so that Magoza could hone her natural ability, but eventually Burag told me that I was no longer welcome. I suspected that he had found out that Magoza was not one of his, but it was not that. I met Bagol many times later, and she told me how he became angry at the slightest thing, perhaps it was the rage ailment that the priestess spoke of in Whiterun. Anyway, we agreed that at some point I should take Magoza away from there. The only place that someone with such advance abilities in magic could find challenge, was the College of Winterhold and that was where we decided I should take her when the time came."

"That time came sooner than expected?" Kalon asked finding himself totally enthralled by the story.

"Burag found out that Magoza was not his."

"How?" Doran asked.

"He suspected something was amiss. When Bagol next went out on one of her ingredient finding expeditions he sent someone to follow her. When she met up with me, they heard what we discussed."

"How did he react?" Rontag asked.

"I discovered what had happened, when an orc found me as I headed back to the city of Jehanna. He was a sibling of Magoza, but full blood. Burag had sought to kill Bagol, claiming a blood price on her and Magoza. Some of the stronghold stood up to him and he slaughtered them, he slaughtered Bagol. Magoza escaped."

"So you came here?" Doran asked.

"First both me and the orc went back to the stronghold to find that Burag had slaughtered everyone, even those that had sided with him. He had gone, in pursuit of Magoza no less."

"What happened to the orc that was with you?" Rontag questioned.

"He was injured, more than he thought. He told me to stop Burag while he remained in Jehanna."

"And here you are?" Rontag said.

"Here I am."

It was quite the tale and it brought Rontag no amount of joy to know that this Burag was in pursuit of one that was travelling with his wife. He had to find them before he did, he had to stop him.

* * *

The Nightgate Inn looked most lonely at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere near the semi frozen lake.

Magoza and Tam sat at the edge of the small wooden pier with a fishing rod, fishing for Hadring who had promised that they could stay for free, and would even pay them some coin if they gathered some fish for him. Inside Valerie sat talking to Jo'Agro, interested in the cat's history and what it was exactly that he wished to gain by going to the College of Winterhold.

"The college offers much knowledge." he told her. "Jo'Agro can also offer much knowledge to the college."

"So you want to share what you know, and you want to learn more?" she asked him.

"Yes." The Khajiit said plainly. "Jo'Agro's conjuration and alteration skills are very good, but one wishes to be better at restoration."

Valerie found herself liking the cat more. Sure he was a magic user, yet he seemed so normal, apart from his lack of being able to refer to himself in first person, and restoration was one of the only schools of magic that was tolerated, even respected in Skyrim. Anyone who sought to better understand it was a decent person in her book.

She smiled at him. "Restoration is a very noble skill to learn. To be able to heal others around you is something all magic users should try and understand."

"Perhaps." he said. "If more understood it, then more would survive injury and live. However, a lot use it only for themselves and have a basic understanding of it only. It is seen by most, as a priests tool, or one that is used by the weak."

"But you are interested in learning more, so you cannot see it as weak, can you?"

"It is fascinating, yes?" he said. "To be able to heal broken bone or rebind slashed flesh?"

"Sounds good, city guards should have healers."

"Unfortunately, this one knows of some Thalmor torture techniques that involve torturing the victim by slashing him, then healing them so that they can be tortured once more."

Valerie felt a shiver go down her back at the sudden reveal. "How do you know this?" she asked not sure that she wanted to even hear the response.

"Let us say not all Khajiit greet them with open arms."

"Did they torture you?"

"No, but Jo'Agro knows one who was. Managed to free them, but they were killed while escaping."

"That's awful, but I was unaware that some of your people don't like the Thalmor."

"When the moons Secunda and Masser vanished, it caused my people to become distressed. Khajiit rely on the moons a great deal. When the Thalmor brought them back into existence, the Khajiit leaders became loyal to them. Elsweyr split into the ancient kingdoms of Pelletine and Anequina, becoming client states to the Aldmeri Dominion. Together Elsweyr was strong, separate, Elsweyr is weakened."

"Do you think that they brought the moons back?" Valerie wondered.

"If they have such power, then do the Thalmor not have the power to make the moons vanish in the first place?"

Valerie felt herself grow sick. If the Thalmor could make the moons vanish, then they were capable of anything. That made them dangerous, and it made them invincible. Didn't it?

She cleared her throat. "If they can make the moons reappear, then why did they not crush the Empire with ease?"

"That is a question no one can answer." he said. As he stroked his whiskers.

"Perhaps you're right, or perhaps the moons disappearance was caused by something else. Something they knew would happen and they simply took advantage of it?"

"Speculations could be made forever, but what is true, is true. No matter what fantasy is conjured up in the mind." He said as he continued to stoke his whiskers.

"All right then." she said accepting his reasoning. "Well I guess there's nothing more to say on that topic."

"Perhaps not."

Valerie found Jo'Agro to be quite interesting, she could see him being a good friend, if only they had the time. Tomorrow they would be setting off, then a day or so after that he would disappear behind the gates of the college and she would most likely scarcely see him after that. She hoped that Magoza would come to visit her in the city, when she went to the college also, she hated the thought that Magoza would become a stranger to her. Perhaps she would be allowed to show her around the college. Perhaps then she could see who the mages really were, and not what she had been told in scary children's stories.

* * *

Magoza heard horses and the rattling of wood and metal. She looked around from where she and Tam sat at the edge of the pier, fishing, and up at the road where she saw a two horsed wagon pulling up to the Inn. Tam rose up from where she sat and readied the warhammer she had purchased from Dawnstar, just in case. The wagon made its way awkwardly down the small path and came to a halt near them.

"Meratur?" Magoza asked, recognizing the Altmer that climbed from the back with two Redguards. Non of the newcomers had not noticed them.

"You know him?" Tam asked her.

"He knew my mother Bagol, and my father Burag the clan chief. He was banned from coming though, I don't know why."

Meratur looked across at them and froze in place, uncertain what to do.

"Uncle Mera!" Magoza shouted to him.

The Redguard driver and the Nord man climbed from the front and looked across at her.

Meratur began to move forwards towards them, his face beaming with a wide joyous smile. "Magoza!" he yelled, his arms opening wide. "You're safe!"

It had been so long since she had seen him. She remembered how her mother told her of how it was him who still managed to get her spell books, how her mother managed to sneak them in for her. Now he was here and she was so glad to see him.

She ran to him, arms wide also and they hugged tightly. She was so happy that her childhood 'Uncle Mera' was here. She didn't know how he had found them nor did she care.

Tam walked up to them. "Hello." she greeted.

Meratur looked over at her. "Who's this?"

"This is Tam." Magoza told him. "My friend."

"Nice to meet you Tam, I am Meratur."

"How did you find me?" Magoza asked.

Meratur looked back at the people he had arrived with. The Nord headed into the inn alone, while the rest stayed outside. Meratur reached out and took her by both shoulders. "I was following the trail left by Burag."

Magoza looked to the ground, Burag had been pursuing her? "Trail?" she asked, fear beginning to rise up within her.

"The trail of murder he has left in his wake. He is looking for you and he is slaughtering those that get in his path."

"But why does he hunt me? I do not even know what I did. Is it because I'm different?"

"It is my fault." Meratur said.

"What is?"

"I have to tell you something." Meratur said. "Burag is not your father. He discovered this and that is why he hunts you."

"But?" Magoza realised what he was getting at and suddenly things began to make more sense. "You're my father?" she asked already knowing that it was true. "And he found out that I am not fully an orc."

"He sees you as an abomination."

"Where is he?" Magoza asked him.

"He might be at Winterhold by now." Meratur said looking around.

Tam folded her arms. "So Winterhold is out of the question."

"No." Magoza said shaking her head in disagreement. "We have to go. We cannot allow him to murder anyone else."

They had to go to Winterhold, now more than ever.

* * *

Valerie had found that the conversation with the Khajiit had turned stale. They had run out of topics and now they simply discussed the weather and about how cold northern Skyrim was.

The door opened and then closed again. She looked around, and where she expected to see Tam or Magoza, she saw a man she had never expected to see again.

She stood up from the table slowly and turned to him, unsure if the conversation had turned so dull that she had actually fallen asleep, or if what had just happened had just happened.

"Valerie." the man said slowly, his voice quivering.

She stood there insure what it was that she was meant to do next. "No." She said feeling anger begin to well up inside her. "You do not get to call me that!"

"I." he stammered. "I'm sorry." he apologised truly. "It's good to see you again."

She felt her hand grip the handle of the elven sword. She didn't know who stood in front of her, but she realized that her husband had been dead to her for years now. Whoever stood before her was no longer her husband.

"I." he began as he looked at her hand as it gripped the hilt of the sword. His poster slumped and his eyes grew tired. "I don't know what to say to you." he said.

Valerie drew the sword and pointed it at him. "Tell me why I should not cut you down now!" she screamed as she waved the sword around in a threatening manner. "Tell me why you never returned to me!"

"I continued to fight in Hammerfell." he said flatly.

"Hammerfell!?" she shouted. "While you were fighting in some foreign land, I thought you were dead!" She began to shake with anger, her motions with the sword became ever more erratic. "My life fell apart not knowing where you were and you were fighting in _Hammerfell_!?"

"I, I don't know what to tell you." he said, his body starting to shake. "I could not return after such a defeat in Cyrodiil."

"I should cut out your heart for what you've done to me!" she yelled. Tears began roll down her cheeks, she wiped them away, but they kept coming as her mouth quivered and her posture became sagged.

"I didn't want to hurt you." he said. "I couldn't face you after the defeat. I promised to fight and I promised that I would make you proud."

"You made me proud by fighting. It did not matter if the Emperor declared defeat. You fought and that was what mattered, not the winning!"

"I, I just wanted to win against them." he whimpered.

She shook her head vehemently. "Why are you here!?" she questioned. "Why now!"

"I wanted to return home to you."

She wasn't satisfied with the answer. The time to return home was long ago, when the war was declared over. Instead, he had gallivanted off to continue the fight, without so much as a letter to tell her what it was that he was doing or where he was going, or even simply to tell her that he wasn't dead.

"I've come back to you." he said with such intense sincerity.

But it simply wasn't enough. "You are not my husband. As of right now I am no longer Valerie Iron-Axe. You should go. Leave me and do not ever come back or I'll cut you down!"

His head dipped and he whispered almost inaudibly. "I understand." he turned and left, the door opening slowly and creaked as if the wood itself understood her pain.

As the door closed behind him, Valerie felt a wave of panic wash over her. He could leave right now and she might truly never see him again. She threw her sword to the floor and ran over to the door, throwing it open, the cold air rushed in, but it did not faze her.

"Wait!" she yelled. "Don't go!"

He turned to face her and she grabbed him around his waist and hugged him tight, his cold steel armour froze her fingers, her arms and her face, as she rested her head against his chest. She didn't care how cold it was, she didn't ever want to let him go ever again. He was here now, and everything felt like it was going to be all right. "I didn't mean it." she said weeping fiercely, frightened at what had almost happened.

He hugged her back and they both cried together. They were together again after all these years. It had been what Valerie had wanted for so long and she had almost thrown it away in a stupid act of rage.

"Don't leave me again." she told him. "I need you."

"I need you too." he said. "I love you."

"I love you too, with all of my heart."

* * *

They all sat around the fire, both Valerie and her group and Rontag and his group, wondering what their next move was.

It had been a few hours since Rontag and his troupe had showed up and Burag was no doubt in, or close to Winterhold. Everyone there was in danger, though if what Meratur and Magoza told them was true then if they went to Winterhold then they themselves would also be in danger.

"So." Rontag began. "Do we head off to the city?"

Valerie shook her head. "We need a plan, we cannot enter all together, we need to all enter from different angles, try and get a sense of whether he's there or not before we make our presence known." She looked at the Khajiit, Jo'Agro. "I need to see your map."

He reached into his robe and passed it to her. She unfolded it and began to study it.

"How do we do that?" Doran asked not sure how they could go in unnoticed. As he knew it, Winterhold was a husk of a town and a large wagon rolling up would be noticed by everyone.

Valerie addressed her husband. "Can that wagon of yours carry all of us?"

"Should do." he said. "It'll be tight, but everyone should fit."

"Then here's what we do." she began.

Kalon folded his arms. "Who put her in charge?" he interrupted.

Jalia slapped him around the back of the head.

"Ow!" he whimpered.

"Shut up and listen to her." she told him.

Valerie continued, ignoring them. "The plan is simple. We stop the wagon around a mile outside of the city. Magoza, the two love birds and Meratur can stay with the wagon. We should pull it off road and hide it somewhere."

Meratur was not happy. "Why do I stay behind?"

Valerie explained simply. "I don't want anyone that he'll recognize to enter the city." She looked over at Doran. "You are good with ranged, yes?"

"Yes." he said.

"What about you, Jo'Agro?"

"No, this one knows little of ranged combat, though Jo'Agro has used a conjured bow, It was not from a great distance."

Valerie grunted in annoyance. "I was hoping to have some people looking over us. There is a mountain range right next to the city, so I was hoping to have ranged combatants hiding in an elevated position looking out for him."

"You're an archer." Rontag said to Valerie. "Or you was."

"Been years." she said. "Besides, only Doran has a bow."

"So what do we do?" Tam asked.

Valerie looked back at the map. "Doran and Jo'Agro get elevated, Agro has good eyes, so he should be able to pick out a male orc from afar. Me, Rontag and Tam head into the city and look for him on the ground."

Magoza cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. "Why do I have to stay with the wagon?"

"Because I don't want anyone Burag knows in the city, I just told you that."

Magoza disagreed with her reasoning. "You could have me and Meratur." she looked at him. "Me and Father." she corrected. "Looking over with Doran. We can cast ranged destruction spells."

Valerie didn't want Magoza anywhere near the city, where she could be hurt. "No." she told her flatly. "Best you stay out of harms way."

"So you _are_ trying to protect me." Magoza accused.

Meratur piped in. "Keep Magoza at the wagon, I think I should be able to take on Burag."

"No." Valerie repeated. "I need you looking after them. If Burag sees you, then he could become very hostile. We want to catch him off guard."

Meratur laughed derisively. "Burag is never off guard so you cannot do it that way. I know him, I've seen him fight, I'll have an upper hand."

"He knows you." Rontag said. "He's seen you fight also, so nothing is gained."

"We do it my way." Valerie said adamantly. "We look for him from ranged, which is Doran and Jo'Agro and we go in close with me, Rontag and Tam."

"No offence." Meratur began. "But he'd cut you three down like rags hanging off a line."

Jo'Agro raised his clawed hand.

"Yes?" Valerie asked.

"The simple solution is not to engage this Burag at the first sight. Instead, perhaps Jo'Agro should not be ranged. If this one goes with the three of you, four can be made into six if things do turn ugly."

"How?" Rontag asked. "Will you mind control people to fight?"

"No, this one has the ability to summon two creatures at once. Two atronachs could fight with us."

"And then the guards attack us for using evil magic." Rontag said angrily.

A drunken voice spoke from the other side of the room. "Wait, are you talking about fighting that angry orc I saw on the road before I got here?" Fultheim asked them.

Valerie had forgotten all about the drunk Nord who spent the days drinking his life away. "Where did you see him?" she asked.

"He was heading towards Winterhold when I arrived to the inn."

Valerie looked at Magoza, then back at the drunken Nord. "He was outside when you entered?"

"Walking past the inn when I arrived, yeah."

Magoza shuddered. "We had only just arrived before you did. That means we nearly ran into him on the road."

"Well, he looked angry about something." Fultheim said.

"Did he say anything to you?" Rontag asked him.

"I dunno if he even saw me. Looked real angry though, as if someone had wronged him bad."

Valerie clapped her hands together. "Then we use his anger against him."

"He'll cut you down." Meratur repeated.

"We get him riled up." Valerie said ignoring him. "Then Doran can get him from afar with a well placed arrow."

Doran nodded. "I can do that." He told them confidently.

Kalon raised his hand in protest. "What if he's no longer there?" he asked. "What if he finds us with the wagon, while you are in the city and kills us and takes it?"

Meratur leaned forwards resting his hands on his knees. "He'll be still in the city by the time we arrive, don't worry about it. He'll be too busy turning that place upside down."

Valerie passed Jo'Agro his map back. "We'll refine the plan when we get there. I think that we should leave now."

Everyone agreed.


	17. Standoff

Burag entered the frozen, ruined city of Winterhold. The whole place was white with snow, covering the thatched roofs of the precious few homes that lined the main street. He was so preoccupied by the task before him, that he did not notice the city was smaller than some villages. He did not notice the lack of any real defense, nor the precious few guards patrolling the single street. He had no knowledge of the cities past, of it's vastness and position of power among the holds. No idea that most of the city had fallen, swept away by the ocean. That the great college that had once been within the city boundaries, now lay alone beyond the cities' scope.

He did not care about anyone, or anything but the college. That was where Magoza was, so that was where he would find the answer to his lust for blood. He walked down the decrepit white street, feeling nothing but contempt for those that lived in such squalor. Moments later he saw the college ahead, separate from the city, lingering seemingly unsafe on a small rock island that jutted out from the rocks far below.

He made his way up a stone ramp towards a man who stood there, beneath a stone shelter, on the bridge that lead to the college.

"The path ahead is dangerous." the man said. "The gates remain closed and will remain so."

The orc glared at him. "There was a young female orc that came here. Where is she!?" he demanded.

The man regarded him with a slightly confused expression. "We have an older male orc that resides within the college walls, but no young female orcs."

Burag had no time for this deception. He pulled out his sword and sliced the man's stomach. He fell to the ground clutching himself before Burag removed his head. He would find Magoza inside the college. No one would stand before him.

He continued onwards across the meandering, damage bridge. He came to the colleges main gate where he pulled at the latch. It would not budge, no matter how hard he pulled at it. He shook the gate out of anger before he tried to climb it. He found that he could not do so, as his fingers simply slid off as if it was smothered in some kind of invisible grease. He howled in anger as some young mages approached the gate from the other side. They stared at him in shock and awe.

"Open this gate!" he yelled. "Or I will kill you all!"

A female Altmer walked up to the gate and looked through at him from the other side. "What is it that you want?" she asked him.

"I want Magoza!" he bellowed. "Give her to me and I shall let you live!"

"We do not know of this Magoza you speak of." The woman said.

"You lie!" he yelled as he rattled the gate. "I will kill you if you do not let me in!"

"I assure you that no one by that name is here. I suggest you go look elsewhere."

"You will die!" he shouted. Let me in!"

"You cannot get through the gate, it is magically sealed. I suggest you take your search somewhere else before one of the senior mages comes out and takes offence."

"I will starve you out!" he threatened.

"You really think that you can fight a college full of mages?" she asked.

"I'll try and I'll win!"

"I will tell you this only once more. There is no one here by the name of Magoza."

"I will return and I will have her head!" he promised.

He headed down into the city, his mind clouded and his judgement faded.

He could sense that something was very wrong, the thought of him killing everyone at the stronghold filled him with disgust, but it also filled him with joy. He could not stop what had begun. He knew it had grown worse and deep down he knew that his anger now controlled him. He was a slave to it and that made him weak and pitiful. He was no longer one of Malacath's children, but he also no longer cared.

He walked back into the city and stood at the base of the stone bridge that lead to the college and he waited. He would wait until he saw his chance then he would strike with a fury that the college mages would not foresee.

* * *

The plan was in full motion. Magoza, Meratur, Kalon and Jalia stayed with the wagon while Doran and Jo'Agro headed to elevated ground and looked for him. Once found, if Valerie and her group hadn't first, Jo'Agro would run as fast as he could down to them, informing Valerie of where he was. From there they would try and lure him to a place where Doran could strike him with an arrow and they could attack.

Valerie, Rontag and Tam walked into the city expecting to see something amiss. Instead everyone seemed rather stoic.

"You think he's here?" Rontag asked.

"I don't know." she said. "I think we should head to the college and ask them."

As soon as she said that, Tam saw the orc. He was stood at the base of a stone ramp that looked like it lead to the college.

"I see him." she said. "He's stood in a rather good spot for Doran to get a shot."

"I hope Doran sees him." Rontag said.

"Well if when we get close, and an arrow hits him we'll know. Be ready for it."

The moved towards him and the orc glared at them. "What do you want!" he yelled drawing his sword.

Valerie hoped that Doran had his bow drawn because at any moment the burly orc was going to attack them. She could see it in his eyes. Though perhaps he could be reasoned with. Or at least distracted.

"Burag?" she asked.

The orc growled. "How do you know my name?"

Tam nudged Valerie on the shoulder with her elbow. "What in Oblivion are you doing!?" she whispered. "You've given us away."

"I just want to talk." Valerie said to him, ignoring the Altmer.

"You know where she is!" he shouted with a furious realization. "You will tell me, or I'll paint the snow red with your blood!"

He began to move towards them and they drew their weapons, but not before the arrow came, striking the orc in his right shoulder. He howled in pain.

Another arrow flew passed the orc, narrowly missing him as he moved forward, ready to strike.

Rontag swung his axe, but he was too slow. The orc slashed at his steel armor, scratching a deep gouge into it with his orcish sword, before he swung his elbow backwards, striking Valerie in her face, as she got in behind him. Her nose exploded with blood, she fell back clutching her face in pain. Tam swung her warhammer horizontally, striking the orc in the gut and knocking him to the ground.

The fight wasn't over though. He slashed at Rontags legs, flaying one open. Rontag fell to the snow covered dirt as Burag scrabbled to his feet, knocking the warhammer from Tam's hands. The Altmer went to punch him, but his orcish sword bludgeoned at her armor, his weight staggering her. He used the opportunity to swing for her neck in order to remove her head. His strike was interrupted as the bloody faced Valerie rammed into him with a tackle that knocked him to the ground once more. His sword disappeared into a mound of snow, he let out an angered grunt, before he kicked Valerie in the side of the head. She clutched her ear as Rontag jumped onto him, punching him hard in the face. The orc pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the arm, Rontag fell away as the orc smashed him in the face with his fist, only to find Tam's boot smash him in his own. He cried out, but it did not stop him. He grabbed her boot as she took another swing and yanked her off her feet, climbing to his own, smashing his boot into her face.

Valerie found her feet and swiped at him with the elven sword, yet she was disorientated by the repeated blows she had suffered to the head and missed completely. The orc pushed her to the ground. The three of them defeated.

That's when Jo'Agro came running, the fight was back on. Raising his hands in the air, the cat cast a spell and moments later two stone storm atronachs appeared in an orb of energy, both swirling with rocks and lightening. They raised their arm-like appendages, striking the orc with bolts of electricity.

The orc picked up Tam's fallen war hammer and struck the atronachs, seemingly not fazed by their attacks. The storm atronachs continued to strike, the ground shook as they struck the ground at Burag's feet, nearly knocking him once again to the snow covered dirt, yet he maintained his footing, striking one of them with the strongest blow he could manage. One of the atronach's fizzled away as it returned to the plain of Oblivion upon it's death. As he struck the other, the Khajiit who had manoeuvred around him, jumped onto his back and began to claw at his face, scratching bloody gouges out. Burag howled out and lunged his torso forward towards the ground, throwing the Khajiit over his shoulder and into a pile of snow.

Another arrow struck the orc, this time from much closer. He saw the source, an approaching Redguard.

Burag growled as Doran prepared another shot. The orc ran straight at him, causing him to throw the bow to the ground and draw his scimitar.

Burag swung the warhammer with heated fury and struck Doran in the chest. The light Hammerfell armor was no match for the onslaught and it cracked, smashing several of Doran's ribs, knocking him to the ground.

The orc raised the war hammer above him and brought it down on the Redguards head, killing him instantly with the heavy blow.

"Doran!" Rontag screamed, as he tried to clamber back to his feet. He had lost much blood from his wounds, he simply wasn't strong enough. He collapsed back to the round with a cry of agony and fury.

Burag turned and began to make his way back to them. He would now kill the two Nord's the Altmer and the Khajiit and then he would find and kill Magoza.

"Stop!" he heard a familiar masculine voice shout from behind him.

He turned to see Meratur standing by the Redguard's bloody corpse.

"No more!" he yelled.

Burag walked up to him slowly, warhammer in his right hand. "Meratur, you will die for what you've done!"

Meratur raised his hands, flames lapping in his palms.

"You cannot stand up to me!" Burag mocked.

Before Meratur could strike, Burag ran at him, thrusting the warhammer forward like a poker, hitting the Altmer in his chest, before he swung it upwards, smashing him on the chin. He fell to the ground clutching his jaw.

Burag peered over him. "You will die now!" He yelled as he brought the hammer up over his head once more."

"No!" he heard Magoza cry. "Stop, please."

Burag threw the warhammer to the side and turned to her. "I will kill you with my bare hands!" he screeched.

He lunged at her, but Magoza was quick and she moved out of the way. He rebound, trying to grab her, but she moved once more.

"Please stop this!" she pleaded. "No one else needs to die!"

"Once you are dead, then no one else will need to." he growled, before he grabbed her by the throat.

He smiled a sick smile as he lifted her off the ground. "I shall feel your windpipe collapse and the bones in your neck shatter in my hand!"

"Let her go!" Valerie screamed as she clambered awkwardly to her feet.

"I will kill her then all of you!" he shouted.

Magoza reached forward and grabbed him by the side of the head. Valerie was knocked back to the ground as both were engulfed in a huge explosion. Moments later she looked at where the two had been only to find nothing but a giant black scorch mark searing the ground.

She screamed out Magoza's name, but there was no reply. She scrambled to her feet, limped over to where Magoza had been moments before, only to find nothing, nothing but a giant puddle where the snow had been incinerated. She looked up to see guards and city folk lined up staring at them. They had witnessed it all, yet they had not even tried to help, to stop what had happened.

She fell to her knees and cried.

* * *

Valerie, Rontag, Tam, Meratur, Jo'Agro, Kalon and Jalia all stood around the two unlit pyres, outside the city of Winterhold. One laden with the body of Doran. The other adorned by an effigy, symbolizing Magoza, who had left no body to burn.

Valerie stood in the snow, leaning against Rontag who held his arm around her. She stared at the stuffed clothes that were supposed to represent the girl that she had grown so close to, the girl that she could have called daughter. It did her no justice, but it was the best that they could do.

Meratur had just finished his eulogy to his daughter Magoza. It had been heartfelt and devastating to Valerie.

Rontag looked down at her. "Do you have any words before we light the pyre?" he asked.

She didn't have anything to say. What was there to say?

Rontag let her go and stepped in front of everyone. "I have a few words about Doran."

Everyone listened, while Valerie's mind drifted back to the first time she met Magoza, in the depression of dirt left by a giant. She quickly pushed it out of her mind, not wanting to put herself through the painful memories. Instead she concentrated on what her husband said.

"Doran has left us to go to Aetherius, the realm beyond our understanding. He was a warrior who had a heart. He was loyal to his friends and would do anything to see that they were happy. He gave his life to stop evil, and he did so without hesitation."

Rontag looked to the ground. "May both his and Magoza's soul find their way to the beyond."

"Will it?" Valerie questioned.

"What?" Rontag asked her confused.

"Will Magoza's soul go to Aetherius?"

Rontag looked at the others then back to her. "I don't understand."

"She was an orc was she not?"

Meratur kicked at the snow. "What is your point?" He asked, his gaze wandering from his own feet.

"Don't orc souls go to Malacath or something? Is she now the plaything of some Daedra?"

"She was half Altmer, and my daughter!" Meratur cried out. "She is in Aetherius right now, I know it!" his shoulders sagged. "She is not a plaything for some Daedra."

Valerie didn't say anything else. She no longer wanted to be here, she just wanted to be back home in Whiterun, away from all of this. But she knew she couldn't return. This was her life now, far away from everything she had ever known and held dear. She looked at Rontag, a sad smile appearing on her face. _Well almost everything_. She thought.

Meratur picked up the burning torch and walked over the the pyres. After a moment he lit them. Doran's body and Magoza's effigy, everything that they were, their hopes and dreams were engulfed by fire and smoke.

"Goodbye." Valerie whispered. Magoza had shown her a mirror. A mirror of herself. What she had seen she hadn't liked. A racist, who felt sorry for herself. Now she would try to live, try to be a better person. She had the young orc to thank for that, and she would never forget the lessons she had learned for as long as she lived.


	18. Awake

Her eyes opened to strange sounds and a pained body. She lifted her head up only to see peculiar shapes in the darkness. Twined, alien plants that looked dangerous, unwelcoming, loomed darkly in the shadows.

She climbed slowly to her feet and began to walk with a slight limp, seeing that among the strange shapes were only a few sparse familiar trees and plants. Most seemed alien and hostile. As if at any moment they would lunge at her and try and strike her from the world. She continued onward cautiously, unsure of what lay ahead of her. Soon she found a damaged wooden fence and a building in the distance, lighten up by internal lamps. She began to hurry, making her way over one of the damaged fence panels, across a field of half dead crops that looked as though they had not had the chance to become fully grown, they had become wilted and shrivelled not having seen their true potential.

She hurried along, her pace growing faster and faster. Concentrating more on the building and less on where she was going caused her to trip over a raised bit of wood that stuck out of the half dead field. She fell flat on her face, crying out in pain as her nose struck the hard dirt.

She wondered where she was, she wondered how she got here. All she knew was that she was no longer where she had been only moments earlier. She slowly rose to her feet and continued towards the building, more cautiously this time, lest she fall again. She climbed over another fence and along a dirt path until she came to the front door, which she promptly knocked on. She hoped that whoever was inside was friendly and wouldn't attack her, but she knew that in reality there were a lot of people that were nasty and vicious and would sooner murder her than help her. After a moment she knocked again. Shortly after the door opened. Stood in the lamp lit doorway was a grey skinned female Dunmer with fiery red hair and eyes.

She peered out, looking around to see if there was anyone else outside. She turned her attention to the young woman who stood before her. "Hello, can I help you?"

"Where am I?" the young woman asked.

"This is the Karo farm, forty miles west of Mournhold."

That meant nothing to her. "What is this land called?" she asked.

"Morrowind." the Dunmer replied.

"Morrowind?" she asked, almost unbelieving.

"What is your name?" the Dunmer asked.

"My name is Magoza."

"Hello Magoza, my name is Llandri" the Dunmer stepped to one side. "Please come in."


End file.
